Whither by Moonlight
by weezer42
Summary: WO, WP. What do you do when the past returns and kidnaps what your thought was your future. Fluff and Angst ensue. Story is rated for intimate scenes between adult fictional characters.
1. Love under Glass

21/6/04  
  
Title: Whither By Moonlight  
  
Author: Squeezynz  
  
Chapter: One - Love under glass  
  
Rated: R15 - for adult situations(sex)  
  
Synopsis: What do you do when the past arrives and kidnaps your future.  
  
Pairing: W/O, W/P.  
  
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Author's Note: There were several comments that my last story was rather "tame". So hang onto your socks, my muse decided to spice things up. Not entirely sure where I'm going with this smut biscuit, but I'm sure my muse has something up her sleeve, else why put this scene into my lust crazed brain in the first place. Fluff, smut and angst abound.  
  
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The dark figure peered around the window frame, his strangely luminescent eyes narrowed as he tried to see within the room through the chink in the curtains. On this moonless night he was invisible against the soot stained brickwork, his long fingers gripping the rough edge of stone as he leaned further forward to see better.  
  
Hissing in frustration he placed one hand against the glass, his breath fogging the pane as he pressed closer. A flicker of movement was his only warning before someone pulled the curtains back wide, light flooding out of the room and spilling over the figure hurriedly backing away. The next moment the window was opening and sound, which had been muted before, washed outwards, carrying with it an assortment of strange perfumes. Candlewax, flowers and sweat wafted out to the figure now flattened against the outer wall, his nose twitching as he breathed in. Music spilled out and teased his senses, the rhythm lilting and almost irresistible, his toes involuntarily tapping as the strains of a waltz drew him back to the opening and the room beyond. The sound of voices, indistinct as individuals, also reached out to him, his ears straining to filter one voice from the many, his head tilting as he closed his eyes to concentrate better. It was the same technique he used when hunting animals in the jungle, his ability to shut out the sound of the wind and birds and hear the creature breathing or treading delicately across the forest floor netting him a successful kill every time. Now his acuity was focused on finding just one voice, its timbre as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. As he listened the music drew to a stop and a polite round of glove-muffled applause sounded before the rustle of clothes as people left the dance floor, crossing the polished parquet to obtain refreshments in readiness for the next set. The level of chatter rose and the listener knitted his brow in a vain attempt to find the voice. Suddenly he felt a quiver run down his spine as the one he'd been seeking approached the window, his eyes opening as he turned his head to see two shadows fall across the window sill. The woman's gauzy scarf fluttered out a little way, carrying with it the scent of its owner. Breathing deeply Peter edged closer to the embrasure, his fingers twitching to reach out and grasp the delicate fabric but the voice halted him, freezing him to the bricks as if he'd been nailed there.  
  
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"Thank you Steven.....a drink would be most appreciated, I don't think I've had time to pause since I arrived."  
  
"Little wonder.....you are the prettiest girl in the room, and the best dancer, no surprise that every male present wants you for a partner," the man leant down, his lips close to the woman's ear, "but they court you in vain, my love...for I have already claimed you for my own."  
  
Looking up, her eyes shining, Wendy Darling accepted the light kiss that her betrothed pressed on her lips before he left her to procure a drink for them both. As she watched him thread his way through the crowded room, she sighed and snapped open her fan to cool herself, the window behind her letting in some much needed air into the hot assembly rooms. She sighed again, turning her head to look out of the window to the stars just discernible beyond the rooftops, the sky like black velvet scattered with diamonds. At nearly twenty, Wendy had fulfilled the promise of her youth, growing into a lovely young woman, her shapely figure currently encased in a stylish evening dress, her hair dressed on top of her head, tendrils of honey-coloured curls teased out to soften her face and neck. Her wide blue eyes and generous mouth drew glances of admiration from old and young, her poised exterior the very model of a proper young lady of her age. Raising a gloved hand to pat her flushed cheeks, she felt the hard edge of the ring under the thin cloth on her left hand. Spreading her fingers she could see the bump and her lips curved into a smile. She had been expecting Steven to propose and his declaration, after duly expressing his intentions to her father, was all that she could want. He'd proposed in the back parlour of her Aunt's home, getting down on his knee on the well-worn carpet, his slender fingers clasping hers, his dear face earnest as he declared his love for her and asked her to be his wife. Without a moments hesitation Wendy had agreed, his speedy rise to take her in his arms as satisfying as it was expected. Her family had wished them both happy and now, two weeks later, they were planning a June wedding, her mother and exaltant Aunt helping her organise everything necessary.  
  
She was as happy as any girl in her situation had a right to be, she had a loving family, a betrothed who adored her, a future that beckoned with open arms.   
  
Sighing again she snapped her fan shut and stared blindly out the half open window, a tiny crease appearing on her smooth forehead as a small pain stabbed her breast. For a girl who had everything, she was remarkably melancholy.   
  
As she continued to stare, her eyes suddenly focused on something on the glass itself. Leaning forward, she narrowed her eyes and peered a little closer. If she was not mistaken there was a handprint on the window, very clear, as if recently made. Raising her own hand she pressed it against the glass, rubbing at the print. It didn't smear, so it must be on the outside. Spreading her hand she found that the handprint was broader than her own, obviously belonging to a man. Resting her hands on the window sill, she leant outwards, looking down the two floors to the road below. There were no balcony's for anyone to stand on, only the awning covering the entrance at street level. Her wrap was fluttering in the cool breeze funnelling up the building and a sudden gust tugged it away, the silk unravelling from around her arm and floating out of the window, up towards the dark sky above.  
  
"Oh no......" the puzzle of the hand print forgotten, Wendy reached out for her scarf, nearly falling out of the window, only a hard arm around her waist preventing her.  
  
"Wendy what are you doing?"  
  
Pulled back inside and against the hard wall of Steven's shirtfront, Wendy laughed a little breathlessly.  
  
"My scarf got caught and its gone over the roof tops."  
  
"Hardly a good enough reason to throw yourself out the window sweeting."  
  
"Silly.....I was doing no such thing." She turned in his arms and raised her eyes, smiling up at the handsome man who would soon be her husband. Grey eyes twinkled down at her, his grip on her waist turning into a caress as he dipped his head to kiss her.  
  
"Steven.....stop, people are staring."  
  
"Let them stare........you're my fiancee, not theirs."  
  
Surrendering, Wendy gave up her lips to his kiss, his own teasing hers, her body quite inappropriately pressed the length of his. It was only a quick kiss but it set Wendy's senses tingling, her eyes bright when they parted. Steven handed her a glass of punch as they turned to survey the room and the dancers twirling around the floor. Several people were indeed staring, but they were indulgent rather than critical, well aware of the handsome couples' impending nuptials.  
  
With their refreshments consumed, Wendy was once more led out onto the dance floor by her betrothed, her focus all on him, the handprint on the window forgotten.  
  
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Peter heard the couple move away and he pressed the back of his head against the brick wall. His eyes tracked the path of the silk scarf as it twisted and turned, still caught in the air currents wafting over the roof tops. With a push, Peter launched himself after it, his slim body like a dart as he chased the scrap of material. Before it could touch any of the sooty tiles or greasy chimney pots, he snagged it out of the air, looping back and landing on the roof of the building he'd been outside of only moments before. In the dark, he couldn't see more than a pale blur, the fabric like water running through his fingers as he pulled it back and forth across his palms. Lifting it to his nose he breathed deeply, the perfume of its owner strong and sweet, overpowering the smell of smoke that was ever present in the London air. He sat there for long moments with the scarf covering his face, revelling in its soft feel and sweet scent. For a few seconds it blotted out the pain of what he'd heard and seen, his heart still hammering from being so close to her, nearly able to touch her when she leaned out, his hand halfway there when the man had returned and pulled her back inside. He closed his eyes to bring the image back, of her hands pressed to the window sill, her hair glinting with highlights as she leant forward.  
  
If what he had heard was the truth, she had already forgotten about him, her love now given to another, her hidden kiss given away as readily as if Peter had never existed. His fist clenched, the scrap of material fluttering as his hand trembled. Peter screwed his eyes tight shut, his teeth bared as a hated feeling welled up inside him, its insidious tendrils making his heart beat erratically, the blood pulse in his veins. Of all the feelings Peter Pan could now feel, jealousy was the hardest to deal with, its by-product, rage, making him lash out a whatever or whoever was unfortunate to be near him when the feelings struck. Lately the rages had become more frequent, usually a direct result of his visits to the human world, the creatures and peoples of Neverland keeping well clear when Peter returned, the weather their only indication of when it was safe to approach him once more.  
  
There had been a long period when Peter had not returned to the world he'd forsaken, too caught up in the changes his body was going through to venture beyond the boundaries of his world. He had wanted to return to the Darling house, if only to ask for help to understand the changes he was going through, but each time he'd made a start on that journey, his own fears had swamped him and he'd halted before the barrier, his maturing body keeping him fully occupied with its propensity to change its appearance along with other unsettling issues. Now it appeared to have halted its alarming changes, his voice had stopped squeaking and changing, his body had stopped growing.   
  
With the cessation of his preoccupation with his body, he had turned his attention inwards, his feelings and emotions starting to take centre stage until he felt torn apart by conflicting desires and needs with no-one to tell him what was right or wrong, normal or abnormal.  
  
All the turmoil had become focused on one objective, to find Wendy and ask her to help him. Afterall, she had started him on this journey, it was only right that she should help him complete it. The only problem was surmounting his own insecurities and fears born largely of ignorance. He had come back to London only a few days before, his reconnoitre of the Darling house quickly telling him that she was no longer living there on a permanent basis. By listening and following, he established where she was living but again his chaotic feelings kept him from taking the final step and approaching her. He felt awkward and unsure, desperate to make contact but fearful of rejection, maybe even denial. It had come as a shock when he'd first seen her, his mind at first refusing to believe that the graceful creature was in fact his Wendy of the Hidden Kiss. In the years since he'd last left her at her window, he thought of her often, but as she was then, a girl nearly thirteen. Now she was a grown woman and she took his breath away.   
  
He'd followed her to this house, his curiosity piqued as to what she did when she went out. This night she had been accompanied by a man that Peter knew wasn't one of her brothers, his teeth gritting when the man had handed Wendy into the handsome cab before climbing in himself. Now he knew why the man had such a proprietary air around Wendy. The man was going to be Wendy's husband. Again the rage welled up in him, his body thrumming with anger and helplessness. All that Hook had taunted him with was coming true. She had forgotten him, had closed the window to him, had taken a husband.  
  
But no, she hadn't taken him yet, there was still time.  
  
Wrapping the silk around his forearm, Peter scrambled to his feet and launched himself off the tiles. Like a shadow he flew over the roof tops, his arms outspread, his long lean body dipping and swooping like a seal in the ocean as he made his way back to the house where Wendy lived.  
  
Once there, he quickly found the window that opened onto her bedroom, his thoughts and plans still unformed but a kernel of an idea starting to curl around his brain. Her room was in darkness, her night dress and negligee laid out on the bed in readiness for her return. Cautiously he used his knife to jimmy the catch before pushing the window up, the curtains flapping around his face as he climbed through. He feet sank into the thick carpet, his toes curling as he padded across the floor to the bed, his fingers trailing over her belongings, smoothing the bed covers, picking up the book left open on her bedside. His fingers grazed over her night dress and again her perfume rose to meet him, his fingers sliding over the soft material, raising goosebumps on his arms as he gather it up and buried his face in the silky folds. It smelled of her. Dropping it back to the bed, he searched the room, briefly opening the door and poking his head out to find the corridor silent and dark. Back in her room he opened drawers, rifled her clothes, lifted the lid of the jars arrayed on her dressing table, sniffing and tasting as he explored the world Wendy inhabited. Against one wall stood an escritoire, its surface neatly arranged with ink pots and pens, crisp sheets of paper to one side waiting to be used. Opening all the drawers he found several bound sheafs of paper, like books without covers, Wendy's neat hand on the front-piece. Unable to read them in the dark, Peter could only run his fingers over the black lettering before returning them to the drawer. He found himself back at the bed and decided to lay down on it to wait. There was a decorative screen in the corner which he would hide behind when Wendy arrived home. His plans were still unclear, but he thought that he'd come up with something appropriate when the time came. As he settled into the downy covers, he crooked his arms behind his head, feeling enveloped by Wendy, his body relaxing as his thoughts ran along pleasant lines. Peter imagining her welcome when she saw him, her eagerness to go with him back to Neverland, her asking to give him a thimble again, only this time he'd know what she was asking and give her one back. With these delusions curving the corners of his mouth, Peter slipped into an untroubled sleep.  
  
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Unaware of the surprise awaiting her, wendy lingered on the front steps of her Aunts house, her mouth happily engaged in kissing Steven goodnight, her body melting against his as he held her in his arms.  
  
"I wish I could come in with you," Steven breathed, pressing kisses to her cheeks and nose, his heart beating a rapid tattoo, echoed by Wendy's as she returned his ardent embraces.  
  
"Only a few more weeks my love.....be patient."  
  
"I know.....I just.....I want..."  
  
Wendy pulled back a little, smiling at his disappointed face. "I know...I want it too..."  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow......at the regatta?"  
  
"Pick me up at two...I'll be ready."  
  
With a final kiss, Wendy turned to go, her hand lingering in his as she opened the door before parting from him and closing the door.  
  
Steven stared at the wooden panels for a second before swinging around on his heel and jumping down the steps, whistling jauntily. Climbing into the waiting cab he instructed the driver to take him home.  
  
Wendy walked tiredly up the stairs, stripping the gloves from her hands as she went. She'd enjoyed the evening, having danced every dance, more often than not with Steven holding her in his strong arms. With a smile curling her lips she paused outside her room, reaching up to raise the flame in the gas lamp before putting her hand on her door knob and twisting it open.  
  
As she did so the door further down the hall opened and her Aunt's head appeared, her hair done up in papers as she pulled a woollen wrap more firmly around her narrow shoulders.  
  
"Oh Wendy dear......you're back. How was your evening?"  
  
"It was wonderful Aunt.....I danced every dance."  
  
"That's nice dear......and Steven?"  
  
"He was wonderful too....I'm going with him to the regatta tomorrow, so I won't be in for the afternoon. Was there anything you needed me for?"  
  
"No..no, everything is running smoothly. Get yourself to bed dear, you must be tired."  
  
"Thank you Aunt....I am. Goodnight, I hope you sleep well."  
  
Impulsively, Wendy let go of the door and walked the few steps to her Aunts room, leaning forward to kiss the older woman on her wrinkled cheek before turning back to her own room and pushing the door open wide. For a moment she paused on the threshold, her fingers reaching up to unbutton her cape, her eyes unfocused, then she stepped purposefully into the room and reached for the matches to light the lamps. As the room brightened she closed the door and pulled off her cape, opening the cupboard door and hanging it on a hook. Turning around she stopped to toe off her shoes before sitting down at her dressing table and starting to pull out the pins holding her hair up. As she did so she hummed the strains of the waltz, her eyes staring off into the distance as her fingers sought and found the pins. As her hair tumbled down her back she reached for her brush and started to smooth the unruly locks into their usual gleaming selves, so long they reached almost to her waist, curling slightly at the ends. Satisfied that there were no tangles, she rose and started to unbutton her dress, requiring her to twist and stretch to reach each one before being able to step out of the it and drape it over the back of the chair. In just her chemise and petticoat, she sat on the end of the bed and lifted her knee to roll down her stockings. Leaving those filmy items on the floor she spent a few moments massaging her feet, working out the tendons in her toes, waggling her ankles to help relax her legs. Standing up again, she undid her petticoat and it dropped to the floor revealing her silk drawers. Scooping up the petticoat and stockings, she draped them over the back of the chair as well. Reaching her arms up, she stretched again, glad to be free of the clothes. She was wearing a light corset that laced at the front, her slender form not requiring the heavier whale bone contraptions. She slowly untied the ribbons until the corset was loose enough for her to shimmy it over her hips to the floor. Bending over she picked up the uncomfortable article of fashion and pushed it into a drawer, shutting it with a grimace. Free at last, Wendy padded over to her bed and inelegantly flopped down on her back, her limbs outspread over the coverlet, unwilling for the moment to finish her toilette.  
  
She closed her eyes, allowing her tired body to relax into the softness of the bed, her fingers coming up to stroke the pillow beside her head as she revisited some of the highlights of the evening. She sensed a movement and opened her eyes. The curtains were moving and she felt a frisson of alarm shoot through her before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and padding towards the window. Pulling the curtains wide she felt a shiver run down her back as a breeze washed over her bare arms.   
  
"Now who left this window open..I'm sure I closed it." Puzzled, but not unduly upset, Wendy pulled the sash down with a thump before pulling the curtains closed again, shutting out the night. Facing the room, she started to notice other things. Her book beside her bed was closed, when she knew she'd left it open at the place she was up to. Her nightdress was all higgledy-piggledy at the end of the bed when she knew that Sara would have left it laid out neatly for her return. Turning her head she noticed that several of the jars of cream and perfume on her dresser weren't in their usual place, something she'd not noticed when she'd been taking out her hair pins.  
  
"What the....." suddenly feeling afraid, Wendy took a step back until her shoulders hit the wall, her heart starting to hammer in her chest as she put the small clues together. Someone had been in her room, someone had disturbed her things, fingered them, moved them. With horror she glanced back at the window. Someone had come through the window into her room. In a sudden move she darted away from the wall and ran for the door. There was a crash behind her and she found herself suddenly tackled from behind, a muscular arm encircling her waist so that she fell just short of the door, her first instinct to scream muffled by the grubby hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled against the iron arm holding her hostage, her bare feet kicking the legs that strove to pin her to the carpet, her nails coming up to gouge at the face of the man behind her.  
  
"I won't hurt you.....just stop fighting.....I don't mean to hurt you."  
  
The voice was a trifle breathless, his warm breath close to her ear as she stilled her movements, her chest heaving as the man withdrew his arm around her waist only to spin her around beneath him, his legs straddling her, his hand still over her mouth, the other capturing her hands and pulling them over her head.  
  
Effectively pinned, Wendy could only star wide-eyed up at her captor, his body looming over hers, completely in control of her.  
  
What she saw froze her into immobility, all the fight going out of her as she took in the naked, bronzed torso, sun kissed curls and thickly lashed, sea-green eyes of the beautiful Adonis above her. Feeling her relax, Peter lifted his hand from her mouth, her lips parting as she panted from her exertions. His eyes swept over her face, his fingers tracing lines down her cheek, over her jaw and down her neck.   
  
"You're beautiful..." He whispered, releasing her hands, which stayed where he'd held them, her rapidly moving chest drawing his attention as her breasts strained the thin fabric of the chemise to the extreme.  
  
"Get off me...." the sound of her voice startled him, his body complying before he realised what he was doing. Free of his weight, Wendy rolled to the side and pushed herself upright, turning to sit with her back against the wall, regarding her attacker with disbelief.  
  
"Who are you.....and what are you doing in my room?"  
  
Peter knelt on the carpet in front of her, his hands resting on the thick pile, his head tilted to the side as he looked at her.  
  
"So you have forgotten me.....I had hoped...."  
  
"Forgotten you...I don't know you.....we've never met before....."  
  
Peter shook his head. "Wendy........it's me....Peter...."  
  
For a long moment Wendy stared at him, then she started to laugh, the sound not the least bit mirthful.   
  
"I'm afraid you didn't do your research very well.....Peter is just a boy....you are......well, you're not a boy."  
  
"Research? What's that?"  
  
"It doesn't matter....you can't be Peter.....you just can't....be....."  
  
As Peter continued to stare at her, Wendy lifted her fingers to her mouth, her eyes starting to well as she stared back.  
  
"You are....aren't you......you're.....Peter Pan."  
  
"Didn't I tell you so?"  
  
"But......no it's not possible....you can't do this, not now...not after all these years!"  
  
"Do what?" Peter asked, not sure of her meaning.  
  
"Come back into my life.......you can't do this." Scrabbling to her knees, Wendy started to push at Peter, her hands trying to shove him to his feet, her breath catching in her throat as tears threatened to choke her. "Go away Peter.....go back to Neverland......go away!"  
  
Catching her hands again, Peter climbed to his feet and hauled her up with him, Wendy still trying to push him towards the window despite not being able to move him an inch.  
  
"It's too late," Wendy was sobbing now, her efforts to move him, turning into pummelling blows, her small fists striking his chest and arms, her breath leaving her lungs in gasps as she fought to evict him from her room and her life. Fending her off, Peter wrapped her in his arms and held her, her struggles lessening as she found herself once more immobilised, her hands coming to rest, curled against his chest, her head falling forward to rest against his shoulder.  
  
"Shhhhh Wendy.....it'll be alright...I promise." Speaking softly, Peter scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her gently down on the covers, his hand smoothing away the hair that had tangled over her face as the tears continued to flow, her lips trembling as she fought to bring her emotions under control once more. Crawling onto the bed beside her Peter continued to speak softly to her, as if calming a wild animal, his hands stroking her hair, as Wendy started to calm herself, her hand coming up to cover her eyes as Peter bent over her to place a light kiss against her forehead. That small caress proved his undoing. As Wendy continued to relax under his ministrations, he kissed her again, his lips finding her hair, her temple, her cheek, her finger tips, even her nose. Gently he lifted her hand from her eyes, his own alight with emotion as she blinked up at him, her own awash with disbelief and bewilderment. Infinitely slowly he bent his head to hers, his lips touching hers so lightly she almost didn't feel it, only the caress of his warm breath as he pulled back, his eyes holding hers, trying to read her reaction to his boldness. Seeing nothing but a strange bafflement in her eyes, Peter bent his head again, this time pressing his lips to hers in a proper kiss, his hand finding hers where it rested on the pillow and entwining their fingers as his lips moved over hers. Wendy could only close her eyes and drown in the sensations coursing through her body, her mind telling her to stop this madness, to bite and kick and rail at the impropriety of his actions, but her body sang a different tune. It welcomed his gentle caress, her lips parting as his tongue swept over her lower lip, her body starting to melt under the onslaught of emotions sweeping all common sense away.  
  
Peter was on fire, his body trembling as he devoured wendy's mouth. Since she'd first come into her room, unaware of him behind the screen, he'd been yearning to be this close to her. As she'd peeled away the layers of her civilised life, he'd revelled in each new treasure revealed to his curious gaze. Hidden as he was, he only had a narrow view of her room, centred on her dressing table. He'd wanted to let her know he was there from the first, but as soon as she sat down and started to unpin her hair he was frozen in place, his body starting to quiver as she brushed out her crowning glory, the strands catching the light of the gas lamps, alive with gold highlights. When she'd started to remove her dress and underclothes he thought he'd die from the surge of adrenaline in his blood, his heart rate soaring as her body revealed its hidden delights, her new curves so tantalisingly and unconsciously displayed for his eyes alone. It was only when she approached the window and paused there, that a prickle of fear started to make itself known, his muscles tensing when she turned from the window and started to appraise her room. He saw the moment she chose to flee, his body already poised to stop her, the screen crashing to the ground when he leapt after her, tackling her to the carpet and pinning her writhing form with his own body.  
  
Now she lay pliant and warm beneath him, her mouth open and wet for his explorations, her tongue tentatively meeting his, stroking and dancing as he gave chase, a moan deep in her throat making him shudder as she moved against him, pressing herself closer.  
  
They were both lost in the thrall of passion, Wendy's hands reaching up to cradle his face, her fingers combing through his hair, angling his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His hand left her fingers on the pillow to roam down her side, brushing over her ribs, his thumb stoking the side of her breast before curving around her slender waist, pulling her closer until they lay hip to hip.   
  
Wendy moaned again when his fingers grazed over her hip and down to the sleek length of her thigh, her leg lifting as he pulled it up to wrap around his legs, his callused hand skimming back up to caress the swell of her backside, hot and wicked against her skin through the silk.  
  
Her own hands were busy measuring the expanse of his shoulders, kneading the muscles that flexed and pulled under the satin skin, her nails dragging over the hard points of his shoulders before wrapping around his upper arms.  
  
Peter's busy fingers had trailed up her body and were cupping a breast, his thumb brushing over the peak causing sparks to ignite behind her eyelids, the combination of his mouth and hand leaving her liquid with want, her breath leaving her mouth on a gasp as his mouth moved from hers to kiss his way down her neck to her chest where he took her nipple in his hot mouth right though her camisole. Wendy's body arched off the bed as he sucked and laved the hard flesh, the silk turning transparent with each brush of his tongue. Wanting more, Peter tugged the fabric up until her breast was exposed, his mouth latching on once more bringing Wendy to a state of incoherence as he feasted on her.  
  
Peter was being guided purely by instinct, being as much a virgin as Wendy in the games of love, but in this he was ahead of her, having none of the restraints of civility to hold him back, his passionate nature giving full rein to his senses as he licked and suckled, his own level of arousal as urgent as hers for fulfilment. He knew the basics of human anatomy and reproduction, but had no practical experience except in his own ability to pleasure himself. Now he was able to bring that pleasure to Wendy as well as himself, it was as close to heaven as he could imagine.   
  
Wendy couldn't believe the level of excitement building in her body, her only desire being to somehow absorb Peter into herself, become one with him until there was no division, no part of her untouched by him, inside or out. She was so focused on the new sensations sending sparks and flames down her limbs and within her body that she hardly noticed when Peter used his knife to slice through the thin barriers of her camisole and knickers, the silk parting like a the petals of a flower. All she knew was that now his hands could touch her everywhere, his heat could sear her and douse the flames that threatened to consume her.  
  
His mouth was once more on hers, his heated skin melding with hers, no longer a barrier between them of clothes, his own shed a laying in a crumpled heap by the bed. Now they were only skin on skin, hot and urgent, his hands stroking the flames until she gasped, flushing brightly as his busy fingers trailed down her softly rounded stomach and delved into her most hidden of secrets, parting her legs and caressing her where none had touched her before.  
  
Her hands were everywhere on his body, her fingers trailing blazing lines of fire over him, his skin coming alive under her touch. A growling groan from deep in his chest made her arch against him, her hands sweeping up his back and down again.  
  
She was liquid and hot, his fingers finding her core, delighting in her cries as she suddenly shuddered beneath him, his hand still buried between her thighs as she trembled and whimpered, her muscles twitching as she came undone in his arms.  
  
While she lay boneless and sated, he shifted over her, positioning himself, hot and hard, where his fingers had dallied, his sex nudging at her opening as he braced himself over her. Flushed and rosy, Wendy blinked up at him, drowning in his eyes even as her body welcomed him, her legs opening to receive him as he slowly pushed himself inside her, his hardness stretching and filling her, his own body trembling as he paused, his sex reaching the obstruction of her virginity. Resting on his elbows, he hands cradled her face, his lips seeking hers as his hips drew back slightly, her body tight around him as he withdraw only to thrust back in stopping once more when he reached the barrier of her body.  
  
Wendy mewed in frustration as he withdrew again, her hands clutching him to her, her shaking legs coming around his hips, her heels digging into the back of his thighs. Tilting her pelvis she dug in her heels and drove him forward, both of them crying out as Peter buried himself inside her, his hips jerking at the sensations of being encased in her silky heat. Wendy had thrown her head back at the sharp pain, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she rode out the dull ache, her chest heaving as she panted. Peter moved again, his body taking over control, setting up a steady rhythm as he claimed her mouth again, her hands moving up to bury themselves in his hair as her body started to move with him, meeting and withdrawing in the age old dance. She felt pleasure starting to coil again in her stomach, setting her heart fluttering as Peter drove himself into her again and again, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he raced towards his climax. They were both shaking when he uttered a strangled cry, his hips jerking hard against her as he pulsed his essence into her heat, his whole body shuddering in his release. Wendy held him tightly against her as he rode out his climax, his heart thundering against her own.  
  
Some time later, Peter raised his head from the crook of her neck, his lips pressing moist kisses against her soft skin as he shifted slightly, still sheathed in her body. Wendy had her head turned away from him, her hands laying palm upwards on the pillow.  
  
"Wendy?"   
  
At the sound of his voice, Wendy turned her head back to him, her eyes awash with tears.  
  
"Oh Peter.....why did you have to come back." Her bitter tone sent a shaft of pain through his heart, his face falling as she turned her head away again.  
  
"Wendy....I love you......I want you to come back with me...to Neverland....forever."  
  
"You are such a child......I can't come back with you Peter...I'm too old....I've forgotten how to fly."  
  
"Don't say that....you're not to old......I'll take you....we'll go together."  
  
"I have a life here Peter......I have a good man who wants to marry me.....although now I don't know.....he may not want me now....."  
  
"What are you talking about......why wouldn't he want you?" Peter shook his head. "I don't want him to have you.....you're mine," He jerked his hips, moving himself inside her, their bodies still intimately connected. "This makes you mine.....forever."  
  
Feeling him still sheathed in her core, Wendy gasped as her body responded even as her mind rebelled. Seeing her eyes close as he moved within her, Peter grinned smugly, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back into her liquid center, his body more than willing for another bout of lovemaking.  
  
"He can't have you.......you're mine......ever since you gave me... your hidden kiss....you were mine.....long before he laid eyes on you....."  
  
With each pause he stroked in and out of her body, picking up the tempo when he felt her respond, her back arching to press herself against him, passion once more sweeping her away, her fingers curling around his arms.  
  
He swallowed her cries as he brought them both once more to a shuddering completion, Wendy's fingernails leaving crescents on his skin as she writhed in her release, her limbs trembling as she sagged in his arms.  
  
His body softening, Peter slipped from inside her and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so she lay with her head resting on his chest, her hair spread over his shoulder and around his head.  
  
Turning his cheek, he nuzzled the silky strands lying against the pillow, his lips curved in a lazy smile of contentment. Wendy was a warm weight against his side, her breathing slowing and deepening as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, her hand curled trustingly against his neck.  
  
He felt light, as if something had broken free inside him and lifted him above everything in the world. His body felt more relaxed than he'd ever known, his heart still racing, his lips unable to stop the smile curving them. Lifting his head he gazed down the body of the girl in his arms, his eyes drifting over her enticing curves and hollows, painted gold in the gaslight. He felt complete.  
  
There was no turning back now, she had to come back with him to Neverland.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
(sooooooo whatcha think? do I keep going? too smutty? not enough? LOL......I'll be back!) 


	2. As it was, so will it be

Title: Whither by Moonlight  
  
Author: Squeezynz  
  
Chapter: Two - As it was, so will it be  
  
Rated: PG13  
  
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Author's note: It is a popular misconception that to be naive means to have no knowledge of the world and its going's on. Not so, naive means that you just don't see intrigue and deception when its under your nose. The dictionary says that Naive means to be unaffected, straightforward in style, eschewing subtlety or conventional techniques. In my book that is Peter Pan to a tee - but to be naive does not mean one is ignorant of the world or people, it just means you don't subscribe necessarily to the norm. Ignorance is also confused with innocence. You may be ignorant of the subtlety of conventions and rules that hold one person back from following their hearts desire, but that doesn't mean your not aware of them and try to find ways around them. Innocence can mean many thing, you may be innocent and untouched, but still know the mechanics of a biological act without having partaken in it. In my world, Peter is a contradiction of noble child and wild animal, he has all the simple courage and honest belief of a child, but all the instinct for survival and self gratification of an animal. He is unrestrained by the trappings of convention and society and goes, for the most part, where his belly guides him. Given his arrogance and overweening ego, it is hardly surprising that when presented with a new and irresistible temptation, he partakes of it with unbridled gusto. If this doesn't fit with your interpretation of the character then there is little point in continuing to read, as these traits will colour this story from start to finish. On another tack......this is proving way too much fun to stop now, so hold on, this could be an interesting ride. Fluff and angst abound.  
  
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The first intimation that is was morning was when Sara dropped the tea tray, the crockery smashing noisily as it fell from her nerveless fingers. The cause of her shock was the sight that greeted her when she arrived to rouse her young mistress. Wendy raised her head, still groggy with sleep to find her maid goggling at her with her mouth open. After uttering a small squeak of dismay, Sara threw her apron over her head and rushed out of the room.  
  
Nonplussed, Wendy reached a hand up to rub her eyes and stretched luxuriously, her toes curling as she made to swing her legs out of bed. Inexplicably she couldn't move. Something was holding her very firmly about the waist, that something tightening his grip as he felt her stir. Suddenly her memory returned with a rush and she blushed from the top of her head to her toes, the cause of Sara's shock now embarrassingly evident. Wendy Darling was naked in bed with a man, and to make matters worse it was no ordinary man, it was Peter, returned to her from the past and now set to completely destroy her carefully planned future.  
  
The sound of raised voices galvanised her into action, her hands pushing the heavy arm from off her body, allowing her to sit up and tuck the sheet around her body just as her Aunt burst in on the scene, Sara hiding behind her as she bustled in.  
  
"What is this daft girl squeaking about Wendy dear......she says......she says.....oh my lord....." Millicent Hardwicke put a hand out to steady herself as the full impact of the scene in front of her seemed to make the room spin. Wendy was just about to rise from her bed, the sheet wrapped haphazardly about her torso, her bare legs visible beneath the material, her hair a disordered birds nest about her shoulders.  
  
Beside her, still slumbering peacefully despite the uproar was Peter Pan, his lean body displayed in all its glory from the waist up, his bare feet sticking out the end of the bed.  
  
"Aunt....its not...I mean......I didn't..."  
  
"You certainly did my girl......oh dear, I feel faint......how could you....oh lord I need to sit down." Sara helped Millicent to the dressing table chair, whisking off the clothes left from last night, the maid clutching them to her bosom as if to ward off goodness knew what, her eyes glued to the figure still sprawled across Wendy's bed.  
  
Wendy bit her lip, mortified to be caught in such an unequivocally compromising situation. Her blush that had started to fade now flared anew as she hung her head, the sheet clutched tightly to her breast.  
  
Behind her, the perpetrator of this disaster finally stirred. Peter rolled onto his side and reached out a hand, his fingers stroking the bare expanse Wendy's back, the intimacy of the caress not lost on Millicent as she struggled to stop hyperventilating.  
  
His voice laced with sleep, Peter spoke. "Wendy.....come back to bed."  
  
Wendy felt she was about to burst into flames from the heat of her blush alone. Drawing herself up, she turned her head and hissed at Peter over her shoulder. "We're not alone, you oaf!"  
  
Slowly Peter raised his head, his blue-green eyes meeting those of Wendy's Aunt and maid, a smile lighting his features as he lazily regarded the tableau. Wendy sat on the edge of the bed, as rigid as a broom stick, only the faintest of tremors shaking her body. Her Aunt stared open mouthed at Peter, not believing her eyes and the maid snapped her mouth shut and ventured a small smile back at Peter, instantly smitten with his cheeky grin.  
  
Millicent rose regally to her feet, her chin thrust out as she regarded her disgraced niece and her lover.  
  
"I will expect a full and final explanation for this piece of knavery, Wendy....I expect you in my room in five minutes.....decently attired."  
  
With a sniff, Millicent swept from the room, Sara trailing behind her after hurriedly piling the shattered crockery on the discarded tray, leaving Wendy and Peter alone.  
  
With a groan Wendy fell forward, her head nearly touching her knees, her hair hiding her face as she rocked back and forth.   
  
"I'm ruined.....ruined......he'll never look at me now.....oh why didn't you leave last night....why did you stay!"  
  
A little alarmed at her apparent grief, Peter unravelled himself from the bedclothes and slipped out of bed, coming to crouch in front of her, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders, stopping her rocking motion.  
  
"Wendy....don't cry.....it won't be so bad.....nobody will make a fuss in Neverland.....come back with me....today, now....."  
  
Wendy raised her head, her face streaked with tears of regret, her hands still clutching the sheet to her chest as she stared down into Peter face, struck again with how handsome he'd grown. Sniffing she released one of her hands from the sheet and reached out to touch his face, his lips curving into a smile as her finger traced an eyebrow, his hands still holding her arms as she explored his features. Despite her tears her lips also curved into a mirror of his smile, her hand cupping his cheek.  
  
"Peter I can't come back to Neverland with you.....my life is here.....my family......a future.....Steven...."  
  
"He'll not have you....I won't let him." Snatching his hands away, Peter rose to his feet in a sudden move, his fists balled at his side as he towered over her. Wendy reared back, rising to her feet so that they stood toe to toe, both too caught up in the moment to see the incongruity of arguing without a stitch of clothing on.   
  
"I don't belong to you Peter......I'm not yours to do with what you like.....so don't try and bully me!"  
  
"Then stop talking about him.....he's not your future.....I am.....Neverland is your future.....nothing else!"  
  
"I told you, I can't go back there with you....I won't!"  
  
"Yes you are!"  
  
"What are you going to do.....force me?"  
  
His eyes flashing fire, Peter seethed for two seconds before cupping her angry face in his large hands and shutting her up with a kiss, the reason for the argument dissolving into the ether as the brushfire that was their mutual attraction flared once more into life, consuming them both in its flame until there was nothing to think about except the insistent clamour of their bodies demands for fulfilment and release.   
  
At some point Sara put her head around the door only to withdraw it when it became apparent that the couple by the bed were oblivious to her presence. In her quick appraisal she noted that the naked, golden skinned God was kissing her young mistress with unbridled enthusiasm, the young lady just as eager to kiss him back, with her arms firmly around his neck, the sheet forgotten on the floor between them. Shutting the door behind her, Sara grinned broadly before smoothing down her apron and returning to Miss Millicent's room to advise her that her niece was unavoidably detained.  
  
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Sometime later, Wendy lay amongst the disaster area that was her bed, the rumpled sheets and covers strewn haphazardly over their limbs. Peter was pressing moist kisses to her shoulder and collar bone, his eyes flicking up to meet hers, the amusement in them bringing a frown to her forehead.  
  
"It's not funny Peter......I can't go back to Neverland with you..and that's that."  
  
"You can.....and you will.....if I have to ruin you a hundred time before you agree....."  
  
Rolling onto her side, Wendy propped her head on her hand and faced away from him. Unperturbed, Peter gathered her hair together and tossed it over her shoulder before transferring his attentions to the nape of her neck and her shoulder blades. It was if he'd been starving and she was a banquet for him to feast upon. He couldn't get enough, his hands sliding down over her waist and hip, marvelling at the silky texture of her skin as he dragged his fingers back up, grazing over her rounded nether cheeks, goosebumps rising on her skin as he passed.  
  
As if reaching a decision, Wendy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, her hair tossed back over her shoulder to hang in rippling waves down her back.  
  
"I have to see my Aunt.....I'll get Sara to find some clothes for you.....there's bound to be some of my late Uncles shirts and suits still about the place."  
  
Peter watched her as she found her crumpled night dress and negligee, donning the filmy clothes before belting the thin wrap tightly around her waist and leaving the room, not once looking back at him.  
  
Sighing, Peter lay back on the bed with his hands behind his head. Things hadn't worked out at all as he'd expected, but he wasn't about to complain. To him, his future was clear as crystal, he just had to bring Wendy around to the same way of thinking. The door to the bedroom opened and Sara entered with a bundle of clothes in her arms. She kept her eyes firmly averted from the figure in the bed, dumping the clothes on the chair before tripping over to the window and pulling the curtains to let bright sunlight flood the room. She then extinguished the gas lamp before gathering up the remnants of clothes scattered around the room, tutting over the shredded remains of Wendy's underthings, leaving the room and its occupant to his own devices.  
  
Shaking his head, Peter sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, in doing so he pulled the remaining covers off the mattress, revealing the under sheet. Several red marks drew his attention, his fingers touching the blood stains smeared over the sheet, his brows drawing together at the implications. He'd hurt her, made her bleed. He tried to think back, his passion blurred memories not recalling any protests or pleas for him to stop what he was doing, their coupling only minutes before as needy and wanton as anything they'd done last night. But still, there was blood meaning he'd injured her at some stage. The thought made him feel ill before common sense kicked in and he rationalised that if Wendy was in pain or hurting she would surely tell him. He'd have to ask her when she returned.  
  
Rising to his feet he stretched and scratched, his skin still tingling from their lovemaking, his joints popping as he flexed his arms before reaching for the clothes on the chair.  
  
Once dressed in a shirt and trousers, Peter went to the window and looked out at the street below. The morning was clear and well advanced, people walking hither and thither along the swept pavements, several carts making their way to and from their destinations, even an automobile appeared and chugged its way along the street, holding Peter's interest until it passed beyond his limited view. Turning away, he stared at the disordered room. Reaching down he picked up the wrecked screen that had hidden him, propping it up in the corner before he returned to the bed and heaped the bedclothes back on top. The carpet was a mess by the door from the spilled breakfast so he carefully stepped over it before opening the door and sticking his head out into the corridor. In front of him was a balcony which he approached and leant over, staring down at the foyer many feet below. Hearing nothing, he made his way downstairs, his nose directing him to the door leading to the kitchen. Pushing open the swing door he saw the maid, Sara, bustling about the tidy room, her skirts swishing as she arranged cups and saucers on a tray, getting ready to take a tray up to Miss Millicent's room. Spotting Peter in the doorway, she froze, one hand half way to putting a milk jug on the tray.  
  
"I'm hungry," Peter announced without preamble as he advanced further into the kitchen.   
  
"I'm not surprised, great tall thing that you are. There's bread on the bench and butter in the pantry. Sit yourself down and I'll fetch them. The misses is waiting for this tray, so I'll have to leave you to manage."  
  
"Thank you....?"  
  
"My names Sara.....now don't hold me up, I have to get this ready."  
  
Pulling out a chair, Peter sat down at the scrubbed wooden table, his arms folded on its surface as he watched the trim maid whisk around the kitchen as she prepared a steaming pot of tea before disappearing to fetch the promised butter. Leaving him with a fresh loaf to partake of, Sara picked up the tray and left him alone.  
  
Peter eyed the broad bread knife with amusement, drawing his own wickedly sharp dagger with which he proceeded to rip apart the loaf before using his fingers to scoop a glob of creamy butter onto the chunk of bread before stuffing it in his mouth. He was still munching his way through the loaf when Sara returned, her gaze sweeping over the young man at her table before bustling over to the stove to make herself a cup of tea.  
  
"You certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons this morning...who would have thought.....well, what's done it done.....I suppose this means that it will be you marrying Miss Wendy, not that nice Mister Steven."  
  
Peter paused in his chewing to stare blankly at her before finishing his mouthful and swallowing. Ignoring her question, Peter went to wipe his hands on his clothes but Sara exclaimed loudly before he could do so, throwing a tea towel at him to use instead. Shrugging, Peter used the cloth and threw it on the table before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Sara threw her hands up in horror.  
  
"Good grief, you really are a barbarian....and handsome devil to be sure, but still a barbarian....you'll have to buck your ideas up if your going to marry her."  
  
"I'm not......"Peter started to say only to have Sara give a cry of outrage, her eyes flashing.  
  
"You're not going to marry her?.....but you have to. You can't leave the young miss now you've had your wicked way with her.....you simply can't...oh that would be the wickedest thing I've ever heard of!"  
  
Peter rose to his feet, his temper rising. As he uncoiled to his full height, Sara spluttered to a halt, her outrage forgotten in admiration of Peter's height and breadth, her eyes rounding as he turned the full force of his magnetic blue-green eyes on her.  
  
"What I was going to say was.....I'm not planning on leaving her here, she's coming back to Neverland with me.....today if I can get her to go...as for marrying her.....I'm the only husband she'll ever have while I'm alive.......I'll kill anyone who says otherwise."  
  
Sara goggled at him, her expression softening at his obvious sincerity, her romantic heart racing in her chest as she clasped her hands together and grinned at his ferocious expression.  
  
"Oh I just knew it.......you're in love with her.....silly me, of course you are.....oh how romantic."  
  
"Yes, I love her....and she loves me......she's just forgotten."  
  
Combing his fingers through his already disordered hair, Peter paced away from the table and stared out the back door at the garden beyond.  
  
At that moment a bell jangled loudly and Sara jumped, recognising it as the front door bell.  
  
"Oh lordy, who could that be at this time......now look, you stay here, don't go wandering around.....oh what a morning..."  
  
Patting her hair to make sure it was still tidy, Sara raced out of the kitchen to see who was so importunate as to call at the house before midday.  
  
Trotting to the front door, Sara could see a silhouette through the patterned glass. Fixing a polite smile on her face, Sara opened the door to come face to face with the right honourable Steven Bishop, a posy of rose buds clutched in his gloved hand, his handsome face creased in a smile as Sara stepped back to allow him in.  
  
"Good morning Sara, I know I'm early but I couldn't bear to wait any longer, is my darling girl awake?"  
  
"Er.....yes sir, she is.....but not dressed yet.....if you'd like to wait in the morning room...I'll inform her you're here..."  
  
"Oh no need.....I'll just go up....."  
  
"NO!!....er...I mean no sir...I'm sure that wouldn't be proper, even though you're to be married......er engaged as you are......please sir, I'm sure she won't be long..." She ushered him into the morning room, her face tinged pink with embarrassment as she shut the door hurriedly before he could make any protest.  
  
Mopping imagined sweat from her brow, Sara hitched up her skirts and raced up the stairs, praying that the Golden Skinned God in the kitchen didn't stray and meet the Dark Haired Adonis in the morning room. Catching her breath at the head of the stairs, she paced slowly to the door of Millicent's bedroom and tapped on the wood. The door opened soon after and Sara bustled in, shutting the door behind her with a snap. Millicent looked at her in some surprise, Sara casting a glance at Wendy who was sitting on the window seat staring out blindly at the view outside.  
  
"Excuse me Madam, Miss.....but I have a gentleman waiting to see Miss Wendy in the morning room."  
  
"Who is it....it's much to early for calls....."  
  
"Mister Bishop ma'am."  
  
Wendy's head snapped around and she stared white faced at her Aunt and Sara. "No...he wasn't due until two......" She whispered faintly.  
  
Millicent pressed a hand to her bosom and drew in a deep breath. "Well my dear, it would seem that fate has decreed you must make a decision now....this minute."  
  
Sara interrupted. "I should mention that the other....er....gentleman, is currently in the kitchen......"  
  
"Peter?"   
  
"He was hungry....lord was he hungry, polished off an entire loaf!"  
  
Millicent suddenly sprang into life, throwing off her wrap and marching over to Wendy, pulling the startled girl to her feet.  
  
"Right young lady.....you need to get dressed, go with Sara and throw something on......I'll get dressed and go down and keep Steven entertained while you sort out the other young man."  
  
"Sort out?"  
  
"Find out if he'd prepared to marry you of course.....if not, we'll have to take our chances with Steven......he's infatuated with you, he may overlook your indiscretion......"  
  
"What!!...Are you mad?" Wendy's stood rigid, her eyes flashing, her cheeks pink.  
  
"Don't argue with me girl......get dressed and get down to the kitchen.....NOW!"  
  
Shutting her mouth with a snap, Wendy flung herself past her Aunt and out of the room, her own door banging shut a second later. Millicent passed a hand over her eyes before turning to Sara.  
  
"Go and see to her Sara.....be as quick as you can then get back here and help me......oh my goodness....what a parcel of worms this is..."  
  
In record time Sara had Wendy into a simple dress that didn't require all the ramifications of corsets, brushed out her hair and tied it back simply, away from Wendy's pale face. Leaving the muddle to clear up later, the busy maid then rushed back to Millicent's room and help the doughty lady with her own rushed toilette. Wendy made her way down the stairs with a heavy tread. She was a bundle of nerves, knowing that Steven was standing only a few feet away as she quietly passed the morning room door and approached the kitchen. Pushing open the swing door she drew in a sharp breath when she found no evidence of Peter. The back door was open so she hurried across the flagstone floor, her heart returning to her chest when she spied his tall form amongst the herb beds. For a moment she watched him as he paced among the knee high shrubs, his hands resting on his hips, his head downbent as he scuffed at something on the ground. The white shirt hung loosely on his lean frame, her Uncle a more corpulent man than the present wearer. The top two or three buttons were undone and the morning breeze teased the fabric away from his skin, leaving a vee of tanned skin visible at the front. The riot of blond curls crowning his head glinted in the late morning sunlight, almost giving him a halo. As if sensing her regard, he lifted his head and met her gaze with his own, his lips instantly curling into a grin as he dropped his hands from his hips and started towards her. Wendy couldn't help herself, she grinned back at him, her slippered feet drawing her onwards until they met halfway, Peter's hands immediately cupping her face, tilting her mouth up to meet his in a kiss that left her breathless.  
  
Long seconds later they pulled apart, Wendy pink and dizzy, her eyes like stars as she gazed up at him. Blinking she brought herself back to earth and backed away a step to give her time to gather her scattered wits.  
  
"Peter...you have to stop doing that...I can't think...."  
  
"But I like kissing you.......and you like me kissing you too."  
  
"I know but....."  
  
"Wendy......when can we go home....I want to take you back to Neverland.....today....right now....."  
  
As he advanced again, Wendy put out her hand to stop him, her palm flattening against his chest, his skin warm against hers, distracting her again as she tried to form the words needed.  
  
Flicking his eyes down to see what fascinated her so, Peter grinned anew and slowly drew her into his arms, her body complying before she could attempt a protest.  
  
"You asked me once if I knew what love was........if I'd ever loved anything, or anyone......I foolishly replied that love offended me...that I wanted nothing to do with love and growing up...but I was wrong.......I love you.....and I know you love me." Wendy muttered something into his chest but he ignored her, kissing the top of her head before continuing. "I want you more than I wanted anything else in my life.....we were meant to be together.....forever. Come back with me to Neverland.....be my everything.... take me for your husband."  
  
Overwhelmed, her emotions stretched to the limit, Wendy burst into noisy sobs, her hands clutching at his shirt as he wrapped her more tightly in his arms, her body shaking as she wailed against his chest.  
  
So caught up in their own world they didn't notice the figure standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his grey eyes blazing as he took in the affecting scene, his hands flexing before clenching into fists as he stepped purposefully into the sunlight and marched towards the couple standing in the herb garden.  
  
"What the hell do you think you are doing with my future wife!!"  
  
Peter's head shot up and Wendy jerked in his arms, his own holding her firmly against him as he stared at the angry man bearing down on them.  
  
"Take your hands of Miss Darling......at once!!" Steven's order cut the air like a blade, icy and sharp. Halting a foot from them, Steven stood with his feet apart, his body vibrating with anger, his hands still balled into fists, ready to lash out as soon as Wendy was clear. Peter could read all this in a blink of an eye, his own narrowing as he tensed in readiness for a fight. He loosened his hold on Wendy and she hurriedly scrubbed at her face before preparing herself to face her former husband-to-be. Before she could do that, Peter gently but firmly pushed her behind him, one look from his eyes silencing her before his body blocked her view of her former betrothed.  
  
"Wendy will never be your wife......she's mine, always was and always will be."  
  
"What tosh.....she's never mentioned you...whoever you are...so get out of my way and leave this house!"  
  
"You are the one leaving......"  
  
"Get out of my way you.......gutter snipe!" Incensed, Steven swung his fist, aiming for Peter's jaw. Peter had already read his intentions in his eyes and dodged back, the fist missing him by inches.   
  
"Oh NO!!.....please......stop...." Wendy's cry only served to spur the two men on, Steven swinging again, this time his fist being caught by Peter who twisted the mans arm behind his back, bringing his own arm up around the mans throat. They jostled and wrestled, Peter's lips pressed in a grim line, Steven's teeth bared as he managed to drop his shoulder and pull Peter off balance, loosening his grip around Steven's neck and breaking the hold. Separated, panting, the two circled each other like dogs, Steven pulling off his suit jacket and throwing it off to the right before advancing on Peter again. In height and breadth they were evenly matched, Steven having a slight weight advantage, Peter more battle hardened, his muscle like corded wire as the two men wrestled for supremacy, punches flying, eliciting muffled grunts and pain filled gasps as they found their targets.  
  
Wendy could only watch in horrid fascination as the two men in her life fought for possession of her future, her heart torn between the two, both of them everything she could want in a man, both determined to have her at any cost. Glancing up she saw her Aunt and Sara standing in the doorway of the kitchen but she could only shrug helplessly and stand clear of the combat, the herb garden sadly trampled as the two men circled again.  
  
Both men were sporting cuts and bruises, both were dishevelled and dirty from tussling on the ground. Of the two, Peter seemed to be almost enjoying himself, his eyes sparkling as he stepped to the side, his pink-tinged teeth bared in a grin after spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground at his opponents dusty feet.  
  
"Do you surrender?"  
  
Steven blinked at him, his hand coming up to swipe at the blood trickling down from a cut above his eyebrow.  
  
"Never.....I will be the only one walking away from this fray...you will be thrown into the street like the rubbish, you're not worthy to touch the hem of her dress, let alone hold her!"  
  
Peter smirked, his eyebrow quirked as he smiled. "You be surprised to learn what I've touched...and she wasn't wearing a dress at the time!"  
  
The words had been spoken quietly, only audible to the two antagonists, well out of Wendy's hearing. With a roar Steven threw himself at Peter, the two clashing like bulls, Steven's fist landing a lucky facer on Peter before he found himself flat on his back on the path, a sharp blade pressed to the underside of his chin and a pair of flashing green eyes glaring into his angry grey.  
  
Steven blinked up at his adversary in surprise, the wind knocked out of him, his arms pinned by Peter's knees as he straddled Stevens chest, his dagger pricking the pale skin over the pulse point in his throat.  
  
"Now......do you surrender?"  
  
"Peter.....please...." Wendy's plea going unnoticed, the two men  
  
too intent on their silent battle of wills to pay any attention to distractions beyond their struggle.  
  
"Over my dead body you heathen!" Steven hissed, his teeth bared as the blade pressed harder, his chin lifting to relieve the pressure.  
  
"That can be arranged....but for her sake, I'll leave your skin intact.....for now...."  
  
Slowly Peter rose to his feet, the blade held loosely in his hand as he stared down at the man on the ground. Stepping away, he watched warily as the man climbed to his feet, his fingers coming up to touch the spot where a bead of blood welled, dark red against his pale skin.  
  
They were both dishevelled and breathing heavily, sweat mingled with dirt on both their faces. Wendy remained where she was, her eyes bright with unshed tears, her heart breaking as Steven broke the connection with Peter and shot her a glare filled with disappointment and bewilderment. For a second he held her gaze, his hand held out towards her, asking her silently to go with him. Mutely Wendy shook her head, the light in his eyes dying as his hand fell to his side. Tipping his head down, he spat on the ground, a mixture of blood and spittle, wiping his bruised lips with the back of his hand before turning his back on them both and marching back along the path to the kitchen door. Millicent and Sara stood back as the angry young man brushed rudely past them, the silence in the garden broken only by the slamming of the front door. As if broken from a spell, Wendy slumped to the ground, her hands covering her face. Peter wiped the blade of his knife on the leg of his trousers before tucking it into his belt once more. Batting at the dust covering his legs and shirt, Peter slowly made his way over to the wall where Wendy sat disconsolately, her Aunt and the house-maid melting back into the shadows of the kitchen, leaving the lovers alone.   
  
Crouching down on his heels, Peter waited for Wendy to lower her hands before speaking to her. The minutes ticked by before she lifted her head to stare at him, her eyes roving over his face, noting each new cut and bruise.  
  
"Oh Peter......why did you never come back for me.....why did you forget me?"  
  
"I never forgot Wendy.....truly I didn't......it just got so......confusing. I was growing and I didn't know why, I wanted so many times to come back and ask you what was happening, but each time I baulked at the last hurdle......but I never forgot you...." He smiled, his eyes looking off to the side. "Tink would never let me forget....she was always blaming everything happening to me on you...she tried to turn me away from you, but instead she kept your memory alive....."  
  
"I'm not sure whether I should thank her or curse her...." Wendy murmured, remembering the small sprite that had made her life so uncomfortable during those early encounters. Peter swung his gaze back to her and gave her a small, sad smile.  
  
"I doesn't matter now which you do....Tink won't know about it.....she died some time ago.....I still miss her."  
  
"Oh Peter....I'm so sorry....she loved you so...."  
  
"I know.....I love her too, she was my first friend in Neverland...for such a tiny creature she had a huge heart."  
  
For a moment they shared the loss of the tiny creature, Wendy's hand reaching out for his briefly before releasing it and clambering to her feet. Peter also rose, watching as Wendy wiped the tears from her cheeks, her head turning towards the house.  
  
"I'll have to send a message to my mother.....we've made all these plans....the dress....."  
  
"Wendy....."  
  
She turned her head back to face him, her eyes not meeting his, their focus on a spot just below his chin.  
  
"Peter.....I have alot to do.....so many things to cancel...I'll be out for most of the afternoon.....after....a-fter I've visited my parents....they have to know what's happened."  
  
Her hands had been unconsciously twisting together, her bottom lip trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. Letting go a curse under his breath, Peter pulled her towards him and wrapped her in his arms.  
  
"Don't cry.......it's for the best....I promise you.....come away with me to Neverland.....I want you to......it wants you to.....you'll have a future there, with me......together..."  
  
"It Peter? You speak of Neverland as if it were alive."  
  
"It is Wendy.....in ways you cannot imagine...but I'll show you, I'll show you everything.....you'll see."  
  
With her head resting against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath her cheek. Sighing, she pushed away, Peter releasing her as she stepped back.  
  
"I have alot to do......you need to get those cuts seen too, Sara has a medicine chest she uses for all our small needs. I'll be back sometime later today."  
  
Still refusing to meet his eyes, Wendy quickly turned and picked up her skirts, running back to the house along the narrow brick path. Peter watched her go, his expression resigned.  
  
"You can fight me all you want, but I'll win in the end."  
  
Turning away from the house he lifted his face to the sun before walking slowly down the length of the garden to the apple orchard at the end where he lay down in the sweet grass, Sara finding him later fast asleep like a babe in the woods.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Wendy's interview with her parents was emotionally fraught and exhausting. Her father was still at the bank, her mother frankly disbelieving at first, thinking that Wendy was having wedding nerves, but as she poured out the drama of the previous night and morning, her mother's face gradually fell, paling as Wendy described the fight between Wendy's former betrothed and the person Mary Darling could only think of an interloper, to so destroy her daughters peace of mind and disrupt all their plans at this late stage.  
  
"But who is this.....Peter Pan?" Mary asked in bewilderment, her hand pressed to her forehead.  
  
"Remember Mother.....all those years ago when I went missing for a few days with John and Michael....."  
  
"But dearest.....you described him as a boy, not much older than yourself....an eternal boy....how can he be this man who accosted you?"  
  
"He didn't accost me Mother......well at first, but afterwards," Wendy blushed, her face lowered as she stared fixedly at her hands clasped loosely in her lap. "It is him......somehow all grown up....I don't know how...but it is him.....he came back for me......wants to take me back to Neverland."  
  
"What? No...Wendy..oh my dear, you can't possibly.....its outrageous of him to suggest such a thing...to leave your family, your friends....to live like a savage....oh my dear." Horrified, Mary swept her daughter into a tight embrace as if to ward off all thought of such a possibility.  
  
"He says he loves me......and...I think he does...."  
  
"But Steven loves you too dearest......you were to be married...."  
  
"Oh Mother.....I know.....and it was the dearest wish of my heart to marry him.....but now......now I don't know....I just don't know..."  
  
They sat, mother and daughter, in a tight hug for many minutes, the afternoon sun bathing them in a warm glow as each drew comfort from the other. The sound of the front door shutting drew them apart, Mary Darling wiping her cheeks before brushing down her dress and drawing in a deep breath.  
  
"That will be your Father. Dry your eyes, we'll tell him together.."  
  
"He'll be so cross....."  
  
"He loves you Wendy.....he wants only the best for you......that's why we were so pleased when Steven...but that's neither here nor there....he's not an ogre dear.....just tell him the truth...I'm sure he'll understand."   
  
Mary Darlings faith in her husbands equanimity was sorely tested, the walls reverberating with the sound of his shout of horrified outrage, the floor vibrating with the force of his pacing as his wife and daughter appraised him of Wendy's change in circumstances.  
  
"I won't allow it......its preposterous.....he must go and Steven made to come up to scratch.......he must!"  
  
"I can't let him do that Father......it wouldn't be fair to him..."  
  
"Fair? What's fair about some bounder despoiling my daughter on the eve of her wedding.....its not to be borne...."  
  
"Exactly Father.....we have to face...I have to face the fact....I could be with......c-hi-ld." Wendy stuttered to a halt, the awful possibility as much a shock to her as to her appalled parents. Overcome, George Darling slumped into his favourite chair, his wife reaching over to pat his hand as she worried her bottom lip, darting concerned glancing between her husband and her eldest child.  
  
"Then there's nothing to be done.......this Peter must marry you...and quick, before the scandal breaks....we'll have to invent some plausible reason why you've changed prospective husbands at such a late date...." Her Father raised a hand to cover his eyes and groaned, loudly. "Oh the scandal....the bank.....how do I explain to Quidditch-Cooch, oh Mary, how has this happened?"  
  
"George dear......there was no way any of us, least of all Wendy could have foreseen this.....incident occurring. We must accept that it has and make the best of it."  
  
"Why don't we send her to your sisters, we could say she went down with some horrible malady......had to cancel the wedding.....anything..."  
  
"I don't think that will answer George dear.....there's always the possibility that Steven, if he's as angry as Wendy says, will spread the truth regardless of the consequences."  
  
"Oh no....he wouldn't....I mean......" Wendy halted and swallowed hard, not entirely sure that Steven wouldn't, after all, what man likes to be not only jilted at the alter but cuckolded as well.  
  
"We have to assume he will, dear....his pride has been hurt, and you know how it is with men and their pride....." Mary Darling clamped her lips shut when her husband raised his hand to glare at her.  
  
Wendy rose to her feet and started to pull on her gloves, her movements awkward and graceless. "I have to go.....I have to decide what I'm going to do....."  
  
"Oh my dear..." Standing up, Mary enfolded her daughter once more against her warm bosom, Wendy grateful to rest her heavy head against her Mothers shoulder.  
  
"I'm so sorry...." Wendy whispered, "I didn't mean for this to happen."  
  
"Shhhhhh of course you didn't......these things just happen...for whatever reason and we just make the best of it. Now get back to your Aunts and later this evening, your Father and I will come round and meet this.......Peter. Things will work out.....they so often do."  
  
Kissing her Mother on the cheek, Wendy cast her father a last glance, receiving a tired wave of his hand before she hurriedly left the small house in Bloomsbury and walked briskly down the street towards her Aunts, just a handful of streets away.  
  
She had arrived in a handsome cab but now felt the need to walk, her lungs drawing in gallons of the sweet afternoon air, untainted as yet by the smoke of the fires to come that evening. As she rounded the corner a hand gripped her arm above the elbow and she turned her head to find herself staring up into stormy grey eyes as Steven pulled her tight into his side and set off with her in another direction.  
  
"We need to talk..."  
  
"Steven I'm so sorry.."  
  
"Not here.....there's a little park just around the corner...don't mistake me Miss Darling....I intend to listen very closely to what you have to say.....but it will have to wait until we have a measure of privacy."  
  
Pressing her lips together, Wendy meekly allowed him to steer her down the street, his fingers digging painfully into her arm.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
(still with me?? Oh good......tally ho!!) 


	3. Awakening to the Dream

Title: Whither by Moonlight  
  
Author: Squeezynz  
  
Chapter: Three - Awakening to the Dream  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Peter sat at the kitchen table and brooded. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, the clock chiming the hour with monotonous regularity as he polished off the plate of stew Sara had placed in front of him not many minutes before. He'd expected Wendy to be back by now, she said afternoon when she left for Bloomsbury, but there was no sign of her. Sara had chided him and said it was hardly surprising given the nature of her visit, but Peter felt uneasy.   
  
Mopping up the last of the gravy with a corner of bread, Peter pushed the plate away and flashed Sara one of his trademark grins, the young woman blushing before turning away to busy herself at the sink.  
  
"I'd rather keep you a week than a fortnight, never known such a prodigious appetite, at least not since the master passed on."  
  
"It was delicious....thank you."  
  
"Oh get away with you....it was just my everyday stew."  
  
They lapsed into silence, Peter staring at the table top, tracing the wood grain with a finger, while Sara prepared a tray to take up to Millicent, that formidable lady having eschewed any engagements for the evening having decided to have a light meal in her room. Peter hadn't set eyes on Wendy's Aunt since the confrontation in Wendy's bedroom, Millicent deciding to forego the pleasure of having to converse with the person who had single handedly put her house in an uproar and disrupted all her carefully laid plans.  
  
"She should be back by now......what if something's happened to her?"  
  
"Oh....she's be back....after all, she's not gone that far. Now, have you got a corner empty to try my apple pie....it's cold, but I've got some cream that will dress it up nicely."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Wendy sat nervously clasping her gloved hands together, the string of her reticule biting into her wrist. Beside her Steven also sat in silence, his profile presented to her as he stared off across the small park, his legs crossed and his arm resting on the back of the bench. The small corner that served as a public park was almost empty of people, the afternoon already well advance despite the sunshine still pouring from the cloudless blue sky. They were waiting for a Nurse to pass by with her two charges, the small boys arguing fiercely over a ball as they walked. Wendy smiled at them, the boys staring back at her with wide eyes before being chivvied out of the park by their protector.  
  
Once alone, Steven turned his face to her, his eyes alight with barely suppressed fury. Wendy kept her head downbent, apparently fascinated by the stitching on her cotton gloves.  
  
"Is what he said true?"  
  
Wendy jumped slightly, her head lifting as she turned to face him.  
  
"I don't know......what did he tell you?"  
  
"Don't play coy.....he intimated that he'd....that you had allowed him more liberty than would be expected of someone already betrothed."  
  
"It you mean did I...." Wendy swallowed. "Did I sleep with him....then yes....it is true."  
  
For a second Steven just stared at her, then he abruptly jumped to his feet and paced in front of her.  
  
"Good God......I'm your husband to be and I only got a kiss from you, this....creature shows up out of the blue and somehow manages to inveigle his way into your bed.....were you drugged? Did he force you?"  
  
Wendy could only shake her head, tears welling as she lowered her head.  
  
Steven stared down at her, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Sitting down on the bench with a thump, he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees.  
  
"I don't understand.......I thought you loved me.....I know I loved you....who is this man? What hold does he have over you to make you behave so......unlike the Wendy I know."  
  
"I don't understand it myself....I'm so.." Wendy paused, then drew in a breath and started again. "I haven't seen Peter in nearly eight years. I last saw him when I was still only a child. At the time I was swept away, fancied myself in love with him, he was so full of life and needing so desperately to be loved. And for a time I did.....but he never returned and I grew up. I never thought to see him...ever again. Then I met you...and it was wonderful, truly it was...is....but last night....after I left you...he was there, waiting for me.....and when he touched me.....when he kissed me....it was like a madness took over....I can't explain it...it was like I started to breath when he touched me.......oh God, I am going mad..."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
"I don't know....oh Steven, I don't know, I'm so confused....I so wanted to be everything you wanted in a wife....I was happy, truly I was...."  
  
"But now he's back......" Steven stared at the ground, his heart a rock in his chest. "I would still have you for my wife Wendy.....despite what I know now....I still love you." Wendy gasped faintly, he laughed harshly, "that surprises you, I know it surprised me. When I left you, I was ready to wreak havoc, I couldn't believe that everything was gone in the blink of an eye. When I got home, I spent a long time pacing my room, wanting to hate you....but Wendy," He turned to fix his grey eyes on her wide blue. "I found I couldn't hate you, I was willing to fight for you, I bear the bruises as witness, and I still want to fight for you......I love you."  
  
For a long moment, Wendy could only stare back at him, her eyes swimming with tears, her lips trembling as she drew breath after ragged breath into her lungs.  
  
"Oh Steven....you deserve so much more than me.....I'm so sorry...please believe I never meant for this to happen....I did love you.....I wanted to be your wife...."  
  
"But now you want to be his......." Steven pressed his lips together, reading the truth in her face. "Is there any point in me fighting for you Wendy? Or have you already made your choice.....I could go on and fool myself that there's a chance....but I would be doing just that, fooling myself, wouldn't I?"  
  
The tears had finally spilled over, sliding down her face as she rummaged in her reticule, her hand appearing, clenched around something. White faced, Wendy held out her hand, opening her fingers like petals to reveal his ring sitting in the centre of her palm.  
  
Slowly Steven picked up the ring using only two fingers as if the delicate piece of jewellery was a venomous spider. After a cursory glance, he tucked it away in a waistcoat pocket, his head turned away once more, his eyes distant.  
  
"That is your final answer then." He signed heavily, brushing at imaginary dust on his clean trousers. "Come, I'll escort you home."  
  
Getting to his feet, he held out his hand to her, Wendy slipping her shaking hand into his, feeling his fingers close around hers, pulling her to her feet. Slowly they turned and walked out of the park, Wendy, her head downbent, Steven with his head high, but his expression tightly grim, Wendy's hand tucked into his elbow at his side.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs leading up to her front door, Steven paused, disengaging her hand from his arm but keeping her hand in his.  
  
In silence he turned her to face him, his finger tilting her chin up so that she was forced to look up at him, her cheeks still wet, her eyes filled with pain but as lovely as ever.  
  
"I love you Wendy Darling.....and if ever......" He bit his lip, "I wish you both happy...actually I wish him to the devil," he smiled briefly, "but I wish you happy......goodbye Wendy."  
  
"Goodbye Steven.....I.." Before she could say another word, his mouth had covered hers, his warm lips devouring hers in a desperate kiss that left her clinging for balance to his lapels, her head swimming as she submitted to his embrace. At last he released her, his breath coming in short gasps, his eyes filled with pain and disappointment.  
  
"Be happy Wendy....." Putting his hands on her shoulder to steady her, he stepped back. Giving her one last lingering look, he turned on his heel and walked away. With stricken eyes, Wendy watched him go, the tears running unheeded down her face. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner of the next street, never once looking back at her.  
  
For a long moment she stared at the spot where his tall figure had been, her eyes unfocussed. Above her the door opened and Sara appeared, her face screwed up with worry. When Wendy didn't move, the maid hurried down the stairs and drew the girl towards the house, an arm around her back to urge her up the stairs. In silence they entered the terraced house, Sara taking Wendy's coat, alarmed that her young mistress seemed to be shivering and close to collapse.  
  
"Peter.....get yourself out here...." She called, but he was already there, catching Wendy in his arms as she fainted dead away, her head lolling on his shoulder as Sara fussed around them, thoroughly frightened to see Wendy's white face. Millicent appeared at the head of the stairs, crying out at the sight of Wendy in Peter's arms, her hand white knuckled on the newel post as Peter started up the stairs, his limp burden in his arms.  
  
Millicent threw open the door to Wendy's room and Peter carried her through to lay her gently down on her newly made bed, her room once more restored to it's usual tidy state.  
  
Sara appeared with a damp cloth while Peter sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing Wendy's hair from her face and calling to her.  
  
"Now you leave Wendy to me, she's just overcome with everything that's been happening today....get yourself away," Pulling on Peter's arm, Sara managed to prise him away from the bed, only to have him stand just behind her as she wiped Wendy's face clean of her tears before starting to loosen her clothes. Millicent was sat down on the dressing table chair, her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes huge in her face as she stared at her niece. Peter ignored her, his focus all on Wendy, his brow furrowed as he took in her wan face and closed eyes. Sara had removed Wendy's shoes and stockings, gloves and the pins from her hair in an effort to make her as comfortable as possible. When she bustled away with all that frippery, Peter returned to sit on the side of the bed, his hand reaching out to stroke her face, Wendy's lips parting on a sigh as she turned into his hand. A moment later her eyelashes fluttered.  
  
"She's coming round," Peter informed the occupants of the room without turning his head. Millicent closed her eyes and muttered a prayer while Sara looked on, a small smile curving her lips as Peter bent down and kissed her young mistress, Wendy's eyes opening slowly, blinking up at Peter bending over her.  
  
"How...h-ow did I get here?"  
  
"You passed out downstairs, I carried you up here..."  
  
Millicent had risen to her feet and approached the bed, her face appearing over Peter's shoulder, her brow wrinkled with worry.  
  
"Are you alright Wendy dear? You gave us all a fright...how do you feel?"  
  
Wendy managed a faint smile for her Aunt, her eyes flicking from her back to Peter's. "Just a little tired....just tired."  
  
"And is it any wonder you fainted.....I bet you haven't eaten a thing all day." Sara appeared beside Millicent, her eyebrow arched as Wendy swivelled her eyes to look at her.  
  
"I don't remember....I don't think I have had anything.....how silly....I forgot...."  
  
"I'll fetch you something right now...." Sara nodded to herself then turned and left the bedroom. Millicent pursed her lips when Wendy's eyes returned to stare up at Peter, the older woman feeling decidedly de trop. "I'll go and give Sara a hand.....if you don't need me ?"  
  
Wendy returned to gaze at her Aunt, smiling a little. "Thank you, dearest Aunt...I'm sorry to be so much trouble."  
  
"Tosh m'dear.....not your fault....." Casting a fulminating glance at the oblivious young man still perched on her nieces bed, Millicent turned and left the room. Peter chuckled.  
  
"I thought she'd never leave.....now you can tell me why to were crying and why you forgot to eat all day."   
  
Lowering her eyes, Wendy turned her head on the pillow and looked away. "I-I...saw Steven....."   
  
Feeling the blood start to rise, Peter bit back a rude oath, and forced himself to relax. "What did he have to say?"  
  
"I owed him an explanation Peter.....you can't just break off an engagement, I had to explain....he deserved that at least."  
  
"He loves you......do you love him?"  
  
"I do....atleast I did...." She felt Peter stiffen, her head turning back so that she could look up at him again. His face looked carved from marble, a pulse leaping along his jawline, his eyes bleak. "Peter, I was going to marry him, he was going to be my husband, do you think I would marry someone I didn't care for, didn't love?"  
  
Peter remained silent, his eyes turning a deep green as he waited for her to continue. Sighing Wendy closed her eyes and turned her head away again.  
  
"But now.....after last night," A light flared in Peter's eyes. "Now that you've returned to me, I find that maybe I was....mistaken. What I thought was love....was only a-a...deep affection. That I really didn't know what love was at all...." Nervously, Wendy turned back to face Peter, her bottom lips pulled into her mouth.  
  
Peter's thickly lashed eyes were gazing down at her with such a light in them that she gasped, his mouth stretched in a wide, cheeky grin that melted her insides and made her heart thump.  
  
"Do you love me Wendy?"  
  
Blushing, Wendy tried to turn her head away, but Peter wouldn't let her his hand cupping her cheek and keeping her facing him.  
  
"Do you love me Wendy......because I love you......there is no doubt in my mind, and I need to know there is no doubt in yours.....do you love me?"  
  
Drowning in his sea-green gaze, Wendy parted her lips and said the words that sealed her fate.  
  
"I love you Peter......I always have."  
  
Saying the words was like having a thousand butterflies let loose in her chest, her heart setting up an unsteady rhythm as she lay there, Peter's hand warm on her cheek, his handsome face alight with love and a glow that grew to encompass them both. With infinite care, Peter lowered his head until his lips brushed against her, instantly igniting a fire within them both. As he pulled away, Wendy reached up and snaked her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down, her lips parting as they kissed again, this time neither pulled back, the kiss deepening until the world around them melted away, only their bodies remaining tethered to the mortal plane, their hearts and senses already soaring towards heaven.  
  
So caught up in their embrace, Sara had to cough three times before they acknowledged her presence, Wendy blushing hotly, Peter turning his head to send Sara a crooked smile that set the poor girls heart racing and the tray rattling.  
  
"If you can bear to be parted for two second," she remarked with asperity, "yon miss needs to get this inside her....it's some of my soup and fresh bread...and a pot of tea. Now stand aside Peter,"  
  
Submitting tamely to Sara's bullying, Peter rose from the bed while Wendy sat up, still blushing hotly. Sara arranged the bed tray over Wendy's legs, staying to pour a cup of fragrant tea while Wendy sniffed the soup appreciatively, her stomach growling. Peter stood to the side, his arms folded across his chest, watching with a gleam in his eye. Turning, Sara made shooing motions with her hands, ushering Peter out of the room. Wendy watched, trying hard not to laugh as her diminutive maid harried her lover out of her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.  
  
Licking her lips, Wendy spooned the soup to her mouth, more than happy to enjoy the simple repast, along with some peace and quiet. She loved Peter to distraction, but being with him was like standing in the eye of a storm, everything in chaos around her.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Peter had been persuaded by Sara to take a bath. She had used the ploy to distract him from pacing outside Wendy's room.  
  
Aunt Millicent, having been informed by her niece that Mary and George were due to arrive sometime that evening, was preparing herself to face the recriminations of her brother and sister in law, given that she was responsible for Wendy in her care. That Millicent was blameless made no matter in her own eyes, Wendy had been in her care and come to harm, although it could hardly be classed as harm, it certainly qualified as a disaster in anybodies book.  
  
When Peter had objected to the idea of a bath, Sara had crossed her arms and pointedly looked down at his feet, Peter following her gaze, his bare, grubby toes flexing against the carpet. Giving in with a marked lack of grace, Peter followed the maid to the bath room, situated off the scullery, next to the wash house. It was a white tiled room with a copper boiler in one corner connected to one of the bath taps by a long metal pipe. The bath itself was deep and rested on four clawed feet, very ornate and entirely decadent. Free standing wooden clothes racks held an assortments of fluffy towels and a shelf above held an array of very feminine jars and bottles containing a rainbow of crystals and liquids. Next to the bath was a large square mat to take the chill from the flagstone floor, a loop pile square of carpet to soak up water and keep ones feet toasty. A small window high up in the wall was filled with obscured glass, providing light but keeping ones privacy. As Peter stared with some misgivings at the room and its contents, Sara lit the flame beneath the boiler after igniting the wall mounted gas-lamp, then bustled out to fetch some clean clothes for Peter to change into, this time making sure to include some shoes for him to try and fit. As he waited, Peter explored, his fingers testing the thickness of the towels, sniffing at the faintly lavender smell that arose from them. He next turned his attention to the shelf, picking up the curiously shaped glass jars with their ornate stoppers, pulling the corks out to sniff at the contents, sometimes rearing back if the smell proved too strong, or inhaling deeply is the scent reminded him of Wendy. Sara suddenly bustled through the door making him jump, the jar in his hand almost dropped as he juggled it before returning it to its place.  
  
"I've found you one of the old master's suits....it'll be a bit big, but we can't help that....plus there's some shoes here....try these on."  
  
Laying the black patent leather shoes on the floor, Sara watched as Peter gingerly pointed his toes and pushed it into the shoe. To their mutual surprise the shoes were a good fit, only needing some slight padding with socks to make them perfect. Hanging the other items from a series of hooks on the wall, Sara checked the boiler, satisfied that it was hot enough before she turned on the tap and steaming water poured into the bath. While the water turned the air to a fog, Sara approached Peter where he stood in the corner.  
  
"Did you like any of those?" She pointed to the jars on the shelf.  
  
"Ur....yes....this one.." He indicated a large jar with a crystal stopper that had reminded him of the smell of Wendy's hair.  
  
Smiling to herself, Sara lifted if off the shelf, well aware of its association. Leaning over the bath she tipped some in, the water dissolving it instantly and filling the bathroom with the heady sent.   
  
"I don't suppose it really matters if you end up smelling like a rose garden....it would be an improvement, of sorts."  
  
"What's wrong with the way I smell?" Peter retorted, taking offence, his chin lifting, arms folded across his chest.  
  
Sara laughed, recognising the affront to his male pride having several older brothers of her own.  
  
"Nothing wrong..." She soothed, twinkling at his scowling face. "But after this......you'll smell even better....I'm sure that Wendy will agree with me." Turning away, she tested the water, turning off the hot tap and letting the cold run for awhile longer. Bubbles were cresting the lip of the bath and steam filled the small room. Satisfied that the bath was drawn to perfection, she turned off the cold tap and straightened up, clapping her hands together.   
  
"Right Peter...time to shed those grubby clothes and hop in."  
  
As she turned around to tell him she'd be in the kitchen if he needed anything, she found herself facing a very naked Golden God, Peter having already taken off the shirt and trousers, untroubled by his nudity as a babe in arms. Sara stood and gaped, having never in all her twenty five years seen such a perfect specimen of male beauty, except maybe in the marble gallery at the museum. As she stood there, Peter reached down and snagged the clothes from the floor, holding them out to her as he approached her, Sara's eyes travelling from the top of his head to his toes, a blush suffusing her face as she opened and closed her mouth in shock. Peter grinned and quirked an eyebrow when she didn't take the clothes immediately, his free hand coming up, two fingers lifting her chin to shut her mouth before she snapped out of her trance and took the bundle, now finding him even more overpowering up close.  
  
"I-I-I-I-.....er....I-I..." Sara stammered, unable to tear her gaze from his chest.  
  
"You'll be in the kitchen ?"  
  
Leaning over the bath, Peter dipped his hand in, smiling at the hot, but not scalding water that coated his fingers. Shooting Sara a grin, he stepped into the bath and sank down, his hands bracing him on the sides. The bubbles rose around him until only his shoulders and head were visible, his eyes closing as the water washed over his long limbs.  
  
Finally coming to her senses, Sara muttered something incomprehensible before marching out of the room, her eyes still dazed, her breathing rapid. Closing the door behind her she leant against it, feeling dizzy.  
  
"Good Lord Almighty........well I never....."  
  
Drawing in a shuddering breath, her cheeks still pink, Sara hurried away, the sound of splashing chasing her down the corridor to the kitchen.  
  
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In the bath Peter grinned lazily, his eyes sliding shut as he luxuriated among the bubbles. Until this day he'd only ever bathed in the sea or in the waterfall pool, in both cases the water was cold, pleasant on a really hot day, but purgatory on a cold one. Soap and scented bubbles were a new and very pleasant novelty, his body tingling as he lay his head back on the rim of the bath, his hand travelling slowly over his chest and down his stomach, enjoying the lap of warm water against his arms and legs. The bath wasn't quite long enough for him to stretch out so his knees were slightly bent, resting against the enamelled sides, his legs splayed under the warm water. The scent of Wendy surrounded him, rising with the steam to tease his lungs, combining with the sensuous feel of the water to bring his body to a state of hard arousal. Sliding his hand down he gripped himself, stroking slowly, his mind supplying the images while the smell and feel of the bath evoked a sensory overload, his breath leaving his lungs in harsh gasps as he pleasured himself, his back arching away from the back of the tub as his neck twisted, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace of remembered bliss. Under the water his hand moved faster, water slopping over the rim of the bath as he brought himself to release. With his love's name on his lips his body shuddered, pouring its essence into the warm water, his neck cording as he strained back, mouth open, his body trembling with after shocks as he slowly came down from heaven, his hand releasing its grip as his heart slowed from its hectic race.  
  
Bonelessly Peter slipped beneath the water for a few seconds before emerging, water streaming from his hair and face, his hands washing his face, combing his hair back off his brow as he blinked the soap from his eyes. As he lay there for a few moment, he contemplated how he could get Wendy to take one of these baths with him. Either that or how he could make one to use in Neverland when they finally got back there. With this pleasant thought, he ducked himself one last time before pushing himself up to stand in the bath, water streaming off his gleaming skin, all pink from the chest down and steaming slightly as it met the cooler air of the bathroom. Stepping onto the bathmat, he paused a moment, shaking himself like a dog, water flying around the room before he reached for the enticingly fluffy towels, dragging them over his body to dry off the remaining moisture, leaving him glowing. Dropping the towel to the floor he padded over to the wall and the clothes hanging there.   
  
Slipping on the trousers, he was just fastening the buttons when a knock sounded at the door. Reaching across, he turned the handle and pulled it open, allowing Sara to enter, her eyes fixed on the bath, her back to where Peter stood, pulling the shirt on.  
  
"Well....do I smell better?" Peter voice, close to her ear, made Sara jump and spin around. Peter was doing up the buttons on the shirt, his eyes lowered to concentrate on his fingers, hiding the expanse of tanned flesh, button by button. Swallowing, Sara ignored his obvious attractions and smiled brightly.  
  
"I'm sure you're as sweet as a flower....now hurry yourself, Mister Darling has arrived, together with Wendy's mother, so get those shoes on."  
  
Turning away, she pushed her sleeve up above her elbow, reaching into the bath to pull the plug before gathering up the discarded towel and throwing it over her arm. By the time she'd straightened the room, Peter had got the shoes on, nearly all the buttons on the shirt done up and the jacket slung over his arm. His hair lay flat against his head, the ends curling against his shirt collar. Sara thought he looked adorable, firmly restraining her urge to brush the few curls that persistently hung over his brow.  
  
"Well don't just stand there.......get yourself into the kitchen...get that jacket on and I'll find you a brush."  
  
"What do I need a brush for?"  
  
"I'm going to give you a quick hair-cut. You want to make a good impression on the Darlings, don't you?"  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"For heavens sake....of course you do.....but you need a shave and a haircut, otherwise they'll think you're no better than a savage."  
  
"Wendy like's me the way I am," Peter groused, finding himself pushed and jostled to sit at the kitchen table.   
  
"That's as may be.....but you're not trying to present yourself as a future son-in-law to Wendy....you have to convince the parents..so hold still...this won't hurt a bit."  
  
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(hehe...wicked chuckle...just had to write that bath scene, much to good to pass up......onwards, dear reader, onwards!!!) 


	4. Meet The Parents

Title: Whither by Moonlight  
  
Author: Squeezynz  
  
Chapter: Four - Meet the Parents  
  
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Author's Note: And you all thought I'd left town...that's on the list of things to do next week (moving house on the 16th)...but last week, well that was spent in Hospital having my gall bladder removed. Some fun that was (NOT). Very painful, but eventually lots of the good drugs as well as having an organ along with its contents of five, horse-chestnut sized stones taken away never to darken my pain threshold again. So now, after getting home on Friday 2nd(went in Sun 27th) I'm back.....and I see people have been busy with the fanfics. Great, starting to liven things up story wise around here. So, that's what I've been doing.....now on with the story.  
  
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When Wendy arrived to fetch him, she paused on the threshold of the kitchen and stared. Sara was using a clothes brush to whisk the last of the golden trimmings from the dark shoulders of the jacket, her face expressing extreme satisfaction for a job well done. Peter had his back to Wendy, his hands reaching up to comb through the drying curls, Sara batting his hand away in irritation.  
  
"For heavens sake, I just finished combing it, leave it alone!"  
  
"That torture was combing? My heads throbbing with all the tugging!"  
  
Wendy smiled at Peter's petulant voice, his profile turned to her as he glared up at the maid.  
  
"Peter?"  
  
Her quiet voice reached him and he instantly jumped up, spinning around, his eyes locking with hers as he adjusted the jacket self consciously until Sara batted his hands away before turning a beaming face towards Wendy.  
  
"Whatcha think? An improvement I'd say!" Sara awaited Wendy's verdict eagerly.  
  
Peter never broke eye contact with Wendy, his mouth lifting in a crooked smile as he gestured at himself.  
  
"Will I do?"  
  
Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, Wendy approached across the kitchen floor until she had to tilt her head to look up at him. Slowly she let her eyes wander over him, from his neatly trimmed blond curls, over his freshly shaved smooth cheeks, to the column of his throat, down his chest; encased in a crisp white shirt, down past his waist to the gleaming leather shoes shifting as he fidgeted under her scrutiny.  
  
Bringing her eyes back up to his face, she smiled warmly.  
  
"You look very handsome Peter."  
  
"How do I smell?" His forehead wrinkled as he waited for her pronouncement. Wendy shot him a surprised look before leaning forward and sniffing. A scent arose from his warm skin, a mixture of her own rose-perfumed bath crystals and something else, a cross between sunshine and warm earth, a scent she only associated with Peter.  
  
"Nice....you smell very.....nice." She watched as his expression lightened, Peter shooting Sara a grin before turning back to Wendy.  
  
A bell jangled and Sara jumped.  
  
"It's the morning room, your Aunt must want the tea tray. I must hurry, now shoo, both of you....get going!"  
  
Peter held out his crooked elbow for her, Wendy only hesitating a second before slipping her hand into the crease, Peter drawing it close to his side where it nestled warmly.  
  
Slowly they made their way along the corridor leading to the front of the house, the door to the morning room closed. Wendy paused outside, her body starting to tremble as she prepared to present Peter to her parents. Feeling the faint tremor, Peter pulled her hand out from the crook of his elbow and held it in his, pulling Wendy around to face him. He was feeling nervous too, but buried it under his concern for her.  
  
"We could fly away now.......you only have to say the word."  
  
"No....this is my parents Peter....they didn't get to meet you last time....and I don't want to give them the impression I'm ashamed of you....I'm not.....this was meant to be.....we were meant to be....and I couldn't ask for a more handsome, loving husband than you."  
  
The impassioned speech drove all her nervousness away, leaving her eyes sparkling and her face glowing. Peter's face was full of pride and mischief, his mouth swooping down to cover hers in a kiss that cast all her doubts to the wind and left her breathless and pink. Satisfied, Peter grinned down at her before reaching for the door handle and pulling her through, their fingers entwined, unbreakable.  
  
All eyes turned to watched them as they entered the room. Millicent was sitting in an overstuffed chair, perched on the edge, her hands clasped tensely in her lap. Mary was seated sideways on the sofa, her face calm, a small smile curling her lips. George was standing beside his wife, his back to the room, his hands clasped behind the tails of his jacket. At the sound of their entrance he turned slowly to face the room, his eyes skimming over his daughter, noting her heightened colour and kiss swollen lips before turning to peer at the young man standing tall beside her. Millicent rose to her feet, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers, her eyes darting over Peter's form, the first time she'd seen him with his clothes on. As Peter turned his bright blue-green gaze her way, Millicent felt an unexpected warmth coat her cheeks, shocking her. It had been years since anyone had made her blush, but this handsome young man, with his air of confidence and wild spirit had managed to make her feel young again, his eyes catching hers only for moment before passing on to Wendy's parents, but in that moment Millicent felt a glimmer of the natural charm the boy wore like a second skin. Recovering her poise she sank back to the chair and watched as Peter exerted his magnetism on her sister-in-law, Mary Darling as susceptible as any female, her eyes glazing over as Peter smiled with the full force of his personality, the poor woman obviously as smitten as her daughter, barely managing a weak response when Wendy introduced Peter to her mother.  
  
Only George remained unmoved as Wendy drew Peter towards her Father. George had seen the reaction the boy provoked from the women in the room, his sister blushing like a school girl, his daughter gazing starry eyed and his wife, good Lord Mary was actually batting her eyelashes at the wretched stripling. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stood with his chin raised as Peter came to stand in front of him.  
  
The two men faced each other, each appraising the other while Wendy twittered something that neither heard, too intent on taking the measure of the other.   
  
Peter broke the impasse first. Thrusting out his hand he suddenly smiled at George Darling, making the older man blink as he found himself pinned in place by the force of that grin.  
  
"I'm pleased to meet you.....er....sir." Peter said the words Sara had suggested as a starter. George's hand rose automatically and he found his fingers gripped in a hand that relentlessly shook his like a dog shaking a rat. Quickly stopping Peter's over enthusiastic greeting, he extricated his fingers and flexed them for a second while the blood flowed back. The boy was certainly fit and strong, his skin aglow with health and vitality.   
  
"Er....yes, hello Peter.....it's a....well, its good to meet you at last. Wendy had often regaled her brothers with tales of your...er exploits." George coughed into his hand before tucking his arms behind himself once more, puffing his chest out and tilting his chin again. "But this latest......er......exploit." George felt himself flounder, clearing his throat as Wendy and Peter exchanged a look before turning to face George again. "What do you have to say for yourself, young man....it won't do....."  
  
"Father.....please..."  
  
Wendy felt Peter's arm stiffen as he reacted to her fathers bluster, the smile slipping from Peter's lips.  
  
"I don't know what you mean.....what would I have to say for myself?"  
  
"What do you have to say for disporting yourself with my daughter....do you mean to marry her or not?"  
  
A groan was heard from somewhere behind them and Wendy saw, from the corner of her eye, her mother pass a hand over her eyes at her husbands bald words. Peter, surprisingly, took no offence at Georges words, the smile coming back to curve his lips as he squeezed Wendy's hand against his side once more.  
  
"Yes....if by marry you mean do I want to take Wendy back to Neverland to live with me there forever.....then yes."  
  
"Oh Peter...." Wendy breathed, her eyes widening as Peter glanced down at her.  
  
"If you'll have me Wendy......because I want you....more than anything."  
  
"Oh Peter.....yes....yes I do."  
  
"Now hang on..." George blustered, feeling the control slipping from his fingers as the two young people in front of him retreated into their own world, hands clasped, Peter's head lowering as Wendy's raised her face to his. Millicent sat with her mouth open, frozen in her chair as Peter claimed Wendy's kiss, drawing her into his arms, oblivious of her fathers outraged gasp or her mothers romantic sigh.  
  
"I say.....what the devil?" George spluttered, Mary rising to her feet and joining him, her arm slipping through his, drawing his attention away from the lovers.  
  
"Oh George.....isn't it wonderful........they're in love......Oh my dear!"  
  
"In love.....poppycock....what about Steven? She was in love with him only yesterday...." He made to move forward but his usually meek wife held him back with an iron grip.  
  
"Wendy is old enough to know her heart, and you remember how she was when she came back that time.....I never thought she would get over him....and it's obvious she never did."  
  
"But Mary....I mean really.......its indecent....aren't they ever coming up for air?"  
  
"Oh George....are we really so old? Don't you remember when you first courted me....when my mother left us alone in the parlour?"  
  
Tearing his eyes from the still embracing couple in front of him, George gazed into the warm brown of his beautiful wife's eyes and saw all the love she had for him, and that he had for her swimming in their depths. It left him speechless.  
  
Wendy was almost swooning again, her head spinning as Peter seemed to suck her very soul through her lips, only his arm holding her up as she clung to his lapels. Opening her eyes, she blinked up at him as he released her mouth, their faces only a breath apart.  
  
"Come away with me to Neverland.......be mine forever Wendy."  
  
"Forever is a very long time, Peter....do you think it will be long enough?"  
  
As their hearts slowed, Peter held her until she felt steadier, her breathing easier, her eyes less glazed. The rest of the world suddenly came into sharp focus, along with the realisation that they were not alone. Wendy blushed rosily, her cheeks hot to the touch.   
  
Before anyone could speak or move the door opened and Sara appeared with the tea trolley. She surveyed the tableau for a second before speaking and moving further into the parlour.  
  
"Tea anyone?"  
  
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The evening progressed in stilted steps, Peter and Wendy exchanging desultory conversation with her parents with the occasional interjection from her Aunt. After an hour it was brought to a close, to everyone's mutual relief. They rose to their feet to escort George and Mary Darling to the front door, Sara having called a cab after disposing of the abandoned tea trolley.  
  
As George pulled on his coat, Sara handed Mary into her cape before melting into the background as Wendy stepped forward.  
  
Mary kissed her daughter affectionately, giving the girl a squeeze before releasing her. For a long moment Mother and Daughter gazed at each other before breaking away, Wendy to embrace her Father, Mary to approach Peter, her hand extended. To her surprise, Peter raised her gloved hand to his lips for a kiss across her knuckles, her eyes widening before she withdrew her hand. Hoping that her husband had been too busy to notice, Mary turned hurriedly away, fussing with her cape and adjusting her pert hat in the hall mirror.  
  
George had Wendy's hands clasped in his, his pale blue eyes intense behind his round glasses.   
  
"We'll be back around tomorrow to discuss the arrangements, my girl. I'll have no hole-in-the-wall affair, everything must be done properly."  
  
"Of course Father...whatever you say." Receiving her Father's loving kiss on her brow, Wendy stepped back, her Mother kissing her fondly again before turning to leave. George didn't offer to shake Peter's hand again, merely nodding curtly, receiving a similar nod from Peter in reply.   
  
In a flurry of goodbyes, the Darlings were gone and the door shut behind them.  
  
"Oh lord.....well, I suppose that went as well as can be expected. Wendy dear, help Sara clean up, I have one of my headaches coming on and must away to bed. I'll see you in the morning....." With a handkerchief pressed to her forehead, Millicent made her slow way up the stairs, Peter and Wendy watching her progress before turning away to re-enter the front parlour. The door had only just shut behind her when Peter scooped Wendy up into his arms and swung her around the room, her arms winding around his neck as she gasped, her hair tumbling down in disarray as Peter whirled them over to the couch where he collapsed, Wendy ending up sprawled across his lap, his arms tight around her.  
  
"Now can we go to Neverland?"  
  
Finding herself pressed against his chest, her nose inches from his, Wendy could only stare into his darkening eyes, her breath hitching as she struggled to breath.   
  
Wendy continued to be silent, her mouth trying to form the words, but her lungs incapable of drawing enough breath, Peter frowned, perplexed. As Wendy fought for a breath, Peter suddenly flicked his eyes down to her chest, understanding dawning as he quickly hooked his arm under her legs and flipped her onto the couch, his hand snatching the knife from the back of his belt, the blade slicing through the front of her dress and the stays constricting her breathing. With the release of her chest, Wendy sucked in a huge breath, her body arching as sweet air flowed into her lungs.  
  
Peter watched her worriedly as colour surged into her face, her shaking fingers plucking at the edges of her ruined dress, only a thin chemise left to cover her breasts.  
  
At that moment, Sara entered, saw Peter crouched over Wendy with a knife, Wendy's head twisting to stare at the maid as she stood in the doorway, her hands against her cheeks in shock.  
  
"It's alright Sara.....I-I-couldn't breath....."  
  
"Oh my gawd....I didn't know what to think. Oh your lovely dress is ruined.....!"  
  
Peter sat back on the sofa beside her as Wendy struggled to sit up, clutching her torn bodice together in embarrassment.  
  
"Rather a torn dress than suffocation...why do you wear that thing?"  
  
Peter had tucked the dagger away out of sight and now stared at the two women, baffled as to why anyone would wear such a contraption.  
  
"It's the......fashion." Wendy explained weakly, Sara backing out of the room and leaving them alone.  
  
"Then its a stupid fashion.....you couldn't breath....when we go to Neverland you're not allowed to bring that with you."  
  
"Oh.....when.....not if?"  
  
"When........how long will it take you to pack?"  
  
Amused at his dictatorial tone, Wendy sat on the edge of the sofa and fiddled with the frayed edge of her dress, the whole garment now very uncomfortable with her stays loose around her middle and only thin silk between her and the cool air. Peter's gaze had dropped to those busy fingers, a flame igniting as he suddenly stood up.  
  
"You've had a busy day......you'll need to rest, I'll take you up to...er...bed."  
  
Not waiting for Wendy to agree or disagree, Peter scooped her up and marched with her out of the room and up the stairs, Wendy catching only a brief glimpse of Sara's face peeping out of the kitchen door before Peter carried her across the landing and into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. The room was in darkness, the lamps unlit, only the moon providing any light through the lace curtains. Peter set her on her feet, his back to the window so that the moon fell on her leaving him in shadow.  
  
"Wendy?"  
  
"Yes Peter?"  
  
"Am I your husband now?"  
  
"Yes Peter."  
  
"Can we fly to Neverland tonight.....right now?"  
  
"If you want to Peter......but I thought...." Wendy trailed off, shrugging her shoulder slightly so that the dress fell down her arm, another shrug doing the same for the other side. She heard Peter draw in a sharp breath as the moon gilded her upper body, now only concealed by the thin silk of her chemise. Lifting her arms slowly, she pushed at the skirt and shimmied it over her hips, the whole ensemble falling to the floor in a rustle of fabric, leaving her standing in her slip and stockings. Peter appeared frozen, his face in shadow as Wendy reached up to slip first one thin strap, then the other off her shoulder, letting them fall down her arms, bearing herself to the moonlight and his gaze. Sliding the silk over her hips she let it fall to the ground as she reached up to release her hair from the few pins remaining. Finally she stepped out of her satin shoes, kicking away the dress and petticoat to one side, leaving her standing in only her stocking and the silver moonlight, her skin feeling hot and prickly under its cold glare.  
  
"You are so beautiful." Peter's whisper glided over her as she stood there, bathed in white, her head tilting up as Peter leant forward, his hands closing over her shoulders as his warm lips claimed hers, the kiss starting off light but quickly turning passionate as Wendy threw her arms around his neck, drawing him to her. With her arms around his neck, Peter placed his hands around her waist and lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hip as his arms held her plastered to his chest, their lips never parting. Peter carried her to her bed, laying her down on her back, her legs never letting him go so that he sank down on top of her, still fully closed, and now fully aroused as well.  
  
Tearing himself away, Peter sat up and shed his clothes, both of them now bathed in the cool glow of the moon, all silver and shadows as Peter returned to his position between her legs, his lips tracing a burning path from her mouth, over her face and down her neck to her breasts, Wendy arching up to him, her fingers tangled in his hair as he suckled and bathed her with his lips and tongue. They came together like molten silver, hot and fluid, their bodies striving to become one as they panted and gasped their passion into each others mouths, hands gripping and moulding flesh as they stroked each other to fulfilment, the only witness the moon, the only sounds ones of love and need as they shuddered against each other, their hearts pounding out their completion of a race neither wanted to end.  
  
Hours later, Peter opened his eyes and saw Wendy sitting at her desk, a loose wrap around her body as she wrote, the pen scratching against the paper in the light from a single candle. Turning on his side, he propped his head on his hand and watched her, the candle highlighting her hair, the moon long since risen above the rooftops, still casting its cold light overhead but not longer into the bedroom.  
  
Peter remained silent, just watching her as she wrote, his eyes heavy lidded, a smirk painting his lips. As if sensing his stare, Wendy stopped writing and raised her head, her eyes glinting as she caught the look on his face.  
  
"You are insatiable....just let me finish this...I'll be back to bed soon...."  
  
"Your parents?"  
  
"I can't go without leaving them something Peter......you are not meant for this world, there is no way we could ever live here, not in the way they would expect us to...and I-I don't want to live the way they expect me to......."  
  
"But they are your parents...."  
  
"Yes....and there's the boys too.....they deserve an explanation."  
  
Rolling onto his back, Peter laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the canopy over the bed. Wendy resumed her writing, the scritching of the pen the only sound in the room.  
  
"Wendy?"  
  
"Yes Peter?"  
  
"I'd stay here.....in your world......if you really wanted me to."  
  
Wendy stopped writing, her body suspended for a second before she breathed again, the pen resuming its passage across the page.  
  
"No Peter.....this is not your world.....and once we are gone, it will not be mine either."  
  
They lapsed into silence again. Eventually Wendy stopped writing and lay down the pen, blowing on the paper to dry the ink before folding it over several times and writing something on the cover. Getting to her feet she walked to the mantelpiece over the fireplace and propped the letter against an ornament where it would be spotted by anyone entering the room in the morning. Leaving the candle burning, she returned to the bed where Peter threw back the covers to welcome her. Slipping off the negligee, she lay down beside him as he replaced the covers before enfolding her against his warm body. They lay for a long moment, just savouring the feel of each other, Wendy listening to the beat of Peter's heart while he nuzzled at her hair.  
  
"I'm ready to go Peter......."  
  
"I know......we don't have to leave before dawn. Sleep....I'll wake you in good time."  
  
Wendy snuggled under the covers, curling herself against his long limbs, her softness melting against his hard muscles.  
  
"I love you Peter......"  
  
"I love you to, Wendy....."  
  
With a sigh, Wendy closed her eyes and slipped into sleep, Peter keeping watch over her as her breathing slowed and her body relaxed.   
  
He stared into the darkness, watching the candle flicker briefly before going out, leaving only the wane of the moon to light the room. He would have to wake her in an hour or so, but until then he'd leave her to sleep. He hoped that his preparations in Neverland met with her approval, his teeth worrying his lip as he tried to think of how Neverland would compare with what Wendy had now. But it was useless to worry about it, she would be with him, that was all that mattered. She had said she loved him, and that was all he'd ever wanted.  
  
The rest would be sorted out eventually.  
  
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Ah well......from one life to another......from London to Neverland, what surprises await our intrepid lovers there.....read on and find out, me hearties.....onwards, fair traveller....onwards...... 


	5. Return to Neverland

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Five - Return to Neverland.

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**Authors Note:** Apologies for the long hiatus, moving house tends to suck out all ones creative urges and I think my muse got packed in one of the boxes yet to be opened. Never mind...thank you to everyone who has still been reviewing during the month I've been MIA, your encouragement is worth more than diamonds. Now...on with the story.  
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**Second author note**: 4/4/07 - due to unknown error on they have been dropping out bits of text, some times only words, but in places whole sentences. Parts of this chapter were incomprehensible, making me look like a twit for not noticing when it was posted. I apologise and repost the chapter, and can only hope the same error doesn't happen again. If you find any sentences that simply make no sense, please let me know...in any of my stories, or in any of my chapters posted here or anywhere. Cheers.

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The trip to the second star on the right was a blur, Wendy's eyes refusing to release their tears as she held tight to Peter's hand while they crossed the horizon into the world of the Neverland.

When they spun out of control on the other side, Wendy closed her eyes and just drifted, her mind divorced from the body for a few precious seconds as gravity asserted its pull and she plunged towards the ocean disguised as stars below her.

As she fell, she spread her arms wide, her back arching as she swooped ever closer to the surface of the sea. Suddenly her descent halted, a warmth felt close to her face and body, her eyes slowly opening, blinking to find herself staring down into Peter Pan's face, an inch from her own. He was flying on his back, the water still spangled with stars, rushing past behind him, his mere presence enough to prevent her from plunging into the icy ocean. As the sky lightened around them, Peter reached for her hand, flipping himself out from under her so that he now flew beside her, once more connected, supporting her with his own magic.

Ahead the island of Neverland grew larger, its peaks and valleys cast into deep shadow as the sun rose lazily into the sky, streaks of golden light sweeping over the jungles and forests, flowers blooming in its wake as the island awoke and welcomed its Lord and Master back into its folds. The tears had long dried when Peter brought them in to land on a bald headland, its ground covered only thinly with grass, bright red clay peaking through the thin mantle, dust rising as they landed. They were standing high above the bay, on one side a white sand beach stretched in a broad curve, on the other, a dark pebbled shoreline, punctured by sharp rocks, jagged its way around the next headland. Ahead the sun finished its rise into the sky, leaving behind a haze of sunlight, the sky as blue as forget-me-nots, the jungle as verdant as the richest emerald. Behind them the sea stretched in all directions, limitless and remote, the horizon the only suggestion of an end to the expanse of blue.

At her back was the crash of waves against the cliff below them, in front of her rose the sounds of bird-life, trilling and warbling their welcome to the sun, the insects setting up a base rhythm, sawing their pleasure at the end of night and the start of a new day.

Wendy drew in a deep breath, the scent of Neverland filling her lungs, intoxicating her, leaving her light headed. For the moment she was alone, Peter forgotten as she absorbed the essence of the island, her body welcoming the return even as her heart quailed at her precipitous choice.

"Welcome to Neverland Wendy..."

"It's as beautiful as I remember Peter...simply beautiful."

"I have so much to show you...do you remember the Jolly Roger?"

"Of course...how could I forget Peter...isn't it a wreck by now?"

"Nope...gave it back to the pirates. After I returned they were sitting on the beach, those that managed to make it to shore without the croc or the Mermaids getting them." Peter grinned as Wendy winced for those that never made the beach. "Without Hook to goad them on, they were pathetically pleased to see me return. I had no need to keep the ship so I left it in the bay for them."

"What did they do with it?"

"Oh, just sailed about the island...keeping their hand in, as Mister Smee puts it...they tried to leave but found they just got blown back to the island...so, after a few attempts they gave up and settled on the far side, built a kind of port."

"They built a settlement?"

"Hardly that...but they trade with the redskins, live very peaceably for pirates."

"How sad...they couldn't go home too..."

"Sad?...most of them have nothing to return to." Peter scoffed, kicking at the dust.

"How do you know that Peter...they could have left families, wives, children..."

"I know because Smee told me...they were all orphans...gutter bred for the most part...signed up to escape the gallows, from what Smee said."

"You seem to have become quite friendly with the pirates, Peter?"

"Why not...with Hook dead, they had no desire to continue their pursuit of me, and most just wanted to live out their lives in relative comfort, with the occasional sail around the island to..."

"Keep their hand in?"

"Yeah...I can take you there is you want to go?"

"No...not now...not on my first day back," Wendy tilted her head to soak up the sun, her eyes sliding shut as she wallowed in the warmth after the chill of London. "Where are we going to live Peter?...I don't think I'll fit down the slide now I'm all grown up."

"I have a surprise for you...come on..." Snatching up her hand, Peter pulled Wendy into the air and started towards the jungle. They flew over the crowns of the trees, birds and butterflies passing by below them, flowers sending up their heady perfume to scent the air as they passed. They were heading for a green valley, its upper slopes coated in low scrubby growth, currently in flower, its purple blooms as thick as wool on the ground. A wood stretched the length of the valley and half way up the slopes, a stream threading its way through the tall trees. Peter tugged on her hand and flew them slowly down to land in a small clearing, the stream a little way off. The sun filtered through the high canopy, painting the leaf strewn ground in dappled shadows. Wendy couldn't see anything out of the ordinary among the trees but as Peter led her forward she started to make out a strangely shaped mound rising among the trees, like a hillock but not quite.

"Peter...what it that?"

"Home...come on."

As they drew closer Wendy marveled at the way the cleverly disguised house in the woods appeared to be part of the trees surrounding it, its walls sometimes enveloping a trunk, its roof meeting a branch above creating a conical peak before curving down to loop up and meet another branch. It was a tree house, but still connected to both the ground and the trees around it. As she stared up at the roof of the strange house she saw a thread of smoke curling out of a hole in the thatched roof.

"There's someone home!"

"Oh yeah...that's probably Little Creek. She loves to play house when I'm away...keeps coming in and cleaning and dusting...you'd think she'd have given up ages ago, but nothing I say seems to deter her..." Peter shrugged and curled his arm around Wendy's waist, drawing her forward. Wendy had stiffened when Peter so casually mentioned his housekeeper, dismissing her so off-handedly that Wendy felt almost shocked. For herself, Wendy firmly squashed any sparks of jealousy that reared their ugly green heads at the thought of another girl mothering Peter in her place.

They were approaching the outer wall of the oddly shaped house, the walls a clever mixture of daub and wattle but woven with plants of the forest that continued to grow up the walls and disguise it from the casual glance. Some of the vines were flowering, their pink trumpets nestled gaudily amongst the thatch. As they passed Peter plucked one and tucked it into Wendy's hair, his smile bringing an answering one to her lips. As they walked around the side a shaft of sunlight illuminated an archway leading into the structure, its sturdy wooden door wide open. They were within a foot of the door when the end of a stick broom appeared following a cloud of dust that hung momentarily in the air before the broom retreated and another cloud of dust flew out.

"Little Creek...can you stop for a moment...I don't want to get covered in dust this early in the day."

At the sound of Peter voice, the owner of the broom let out a shriek and rushed out of the door, throwing herself into Peter's arms and hugging him. Wendy stood to one side and regarded the reunion of Peter and his housekeeper with some amusement.

Little Creek was an Indian woman of indeterminate age, her short stature and thin frame making you think she was only a child at first, but when you saw her face you could be forgiven in thinking that she was quite possibly the oldest woman in the world, her features so lined with wrinkles she resembled a last-season apple. Her thin arms were wrapped around Peter's waist, her face pressed to his chest as her legs danced on their own, her moccasins pounding the dust she had so recently swept out of the house.

As sudden as her embrace of welcome was, Little Creek just as quickly pushed Peter away, making the tall youth stagger as the tiny Indian woman rounded on Wendy, her piercing nut brown eyes raking over the girl, a smile revealing a few gaps in the crones mouth as she stood with her hands on her hips, unconsciously mirroring Peter's favorite stance.

"So...you're who he's been pining over all this time...no wonder Lily never had a chance...not that she didn't try, but she wouldn't have wasted her time if she seen you sooner." Little Creek hardly paused to draw breath or allow her audience to comment before turning her head, her long braids swinging, to address Peter. "She's all you said she was boy...did it take much to convince her? No I don't imagine it did much more than for you to bat those pretty eyes at her and she fell in love with you all over again...not that she's not worth every effort to win over...I bet she never stood a chance! Hah!"

Wendy could only gape at the woman, trying to understand the references as well as acknowledge the compliments while Peter blushed and shuffled his feet when Little Creek poked him in the chest before turning back to face Wendy.

"Well you won't want me here...it's all ready for you...knew from the blooming of the trumpet vine that he had brought you back...I'm off back to my own home, have enough to keep me busy there without fussing around you two...see you both tomorrow...don't let the stew burn!"

Like a small tornado Little Creek whisked herself off out of the glade, leaving a bewildered Wendy and an embarrassed Peter behind her to stare helplessly as she disappeared from sight among the trees.

For a moment Wendy stared after the energetic Indian woman before she turned her head to raise an eyebrow at Peter who could only shrug sheepishly.

"What can I say...she wears me out just watching her."

"She's certainly...er...full of energy...how old is Little Creek?"

"Nobody knows...but she has four sons, three grandsons and I've lost count of the great grand-children that fill the Indian encampment...she's grandmother or mother to nearly everyone."

"Including Peter Pan?"

"I guess so...she sort of...adopted me after Hook went...her family helped me build this..." Peter swept his arm around to encompass the house in the woods.

"It's certainly unusual..." Wendy started to say only to break off when Peter swept her up into his arms and carried her through the doorway, careful to duck and avoid crowning them both on the low lintel. "Peter!!"

"I've seen the braves do this when they introduce their new wives to their tepees..."

"Carrying them across the threshold..." Wendy finished for him, her arms tight around his neck as he straightened up. They had traveled down a short hallway and were now standing in the entrance to a large room, oddly shaped with a tree trunk in one corner and several archways leading to other corridors and rooms. Peter lowered Wendy to the floor and swept his arm to encompass the room with its shafts of sunlight spearing down from various windows set high in the roof.

"What do you think?"

To Wendy, used to the straight lines and formal arrangement of Edwardian London, the strange slopes and bowed walls seemed very odd, but also very easy to look at, seemingly part of the surrounding wood with its walls of living plants and hand crafted furniture.

"It's...charming Peter." She made her way over towards a fire set into a raised stone fireplace in the middle of the room. Suspended over the fire hung a blackened pot with a lid that lifted with the force of steam escaping from its contents. Using the cloth left to protect her fingers, Wendy lifted the lid and was instantly assailed with the aroma of a meaty stew. "This smell delicious Peter...Little Creek cooks for you as well?"

"Only on special occasions...I usually fend for myself...unless I go to the village or spend time with the pirates."

Looking around, Wendy spotted a square table set with plates and two rough chairs, a tiny pottery vase holding a selection of wild flowers at its center. Peter had disappeared into one of the other rooms, so Wendy set about filling the bowls with the fragrant stew, her stomach rumbling in anticipation of breakfast. She had just carried the pot back to the fire when Peter emerged from a side room, his hand behind his back. Wendy squashed her curiosity, sitting down at the table and waiting for Peter to join her. Peter sat down in the opposite chair, sniffing the bowl of stew, his face breaking into a broad grin before bringing his hand out from behind his back and placing a small parcel on the table between them.

Wendy cocked an eyebrow at Peter, her own hands still in her lap.

"Open it..." Peter told her, his expression bland.

Wendy carefully picked up the small parcel and glanced up at Peter before turning her attention to tugging it open. The wrapping was made of dry leaves cleverly folded like paper. At its heart was a wad of soft fluff, like cotton wool but silkier. Wendy delved into the bundle and felt something hard at the center. Holding the object between her thumb and first finger she pulled it free of its packing.

"Oh Peter...its...lovely." Wendy breathed, her fingers holding up the ring that had nestled among the silky strands. The metal shone brightly, a rich butter yellow gold with a lustrous pearl surrounded by what looked like diamond chips. Peter rose from the table and came to crouch next to her, taking the ring from her numb fingers as she looked down at him, her eyes swimming.

"I wanted to give this to you the night we danced among the fairies, I had it on me already to give to you...but...it all went wrong, my temper got the better of me...I'm sorry..."

"Oh Peter...it doesn't matter...we were just children then..."

"I thought you were the prettiest thing I'd ever seen and I wanted you to know it, so I was going to present this to you...I wish I had."

Smiling at his contrite expression, Wendy held out her left hand, her fingers splayed for him to put the ring on. As she held her breath, Peter hesitated only a second before slipping the pearl ring on her third finger where it sat gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the roof. Wendy held it up and admired the creamy pearl, her bottom lip pulled into her mouth to stop herself giving in to her emotions.

"It's beautiful Peter...thank you."

Peter had risen, watching her anxiously. Seeing her admiring his present, he grinned, bending down to capture her mouth in a quick kiss before returning to his seat and picking up his spoon ready to demolish the bowl of stew waiting patiently in front of him.

He hesitated, glancing up at Wendy for her permission to start, her ready smile and own spoon already dipping into her bowl gave him the answer he sought. They both set to with a keen appetite, Little Creek's stew providing them both with more than enough to quench their hunger. As they ate Peter told her about other places he wanted to show her, the peak of Mount Hook, named for the departed pirate captain, its summit always coated with snow and its peak riddles with ice caves. He told her of the swamp with its glassy pools of water lilies and the song of the frogs, their mating calls filling the night when the moon was full. He described the plains at the far end of the island where the many hoofed animals grazed, deer and goats that kept the resident population in meat alongside the bountiful harvest of the ocean that surrounded Neverland.

"It all sounds wonderful Peter...but first, I'd like to see what we have here, in this valley."

"Come on then...there's plenty to see.." Leaving his bowl on the table, Peter stood up, bowed to Wendy and held out his hand. Playing along, Wendy rose and curtsied, placing her slender fingers in his warm palm. In stately procession, Peter showed her everything in the main living area then led her through the first of three archways giving onto a kitchen and storage room, its walls lined with crude shelves that held a variety of recognizable and some completely unrecognizable food stuffs along with an assortment of bowls and other household implements. The next archway led downwards, the floor brushed smooth with the marks of the rough broom Little Creek had been using. Tiny niches in the walls held oil lamps that shed a golden glow over the hallway as they descended the shallow slop to a lower level. The lights stopped despite the corridor extending further but Peter was already tugging Wendy down a side passage with several cave like rooms leading off it. These held chests and barrels, boxes and cases. It was like an Aladdin's cave of treasures, some readily visible, others waiting to be revealed. Peter explained that a lot had been gathered over the years from the Jolly Roger, as well as strange things that arrived, washed ashore by the azure sea, to be found by the people of Neverland. Some had been collected by Peter on his travels to Wendy's world, souvenirs of his travels. Wendy barely had time for a glance at the astonishing array before Peter pulled her out of the room and back up the slope. Tugging her along they emerged into the main room and veered around a corner through another archway. Wendy gasped as they entered a round room, its walls punctured in many places but at different heights with windows all shapes and sizes, letting in a variety of light and patterns that fell over the bed that seemed to fill the room, its fur cover resembling some huge sleeping animal. Peter took a flying leap and landed on his back in the middle of the bed, his arms bending to put his hands behind his head as he grinned at Wendy.

"Good grief...is this where...er...you...we...is that a bed?"

"Of course its a bed." Peter rolled onto his side and propped his head on one hand while he patted the bed cover with the other. "Come and see how soft it is."

"Oh...alright..." Gingerly, Wendy approached the bed, her fingers itching to stroke the thick pelts that formed the cover, their many shades blending to create a colorful quilt.

Lifting her dress she sat demurely on the end of the bed, her fingers threading through the fur, her back to Peter.

"Its very nice Peter...but don't you think..."

She didn't get to finish, her thought processes thrown into disarray when Peter started to kiss the side of her neck, his fingers brushing aside her hair to give him greater access, her head turning to the side as his lips traced a line from her ear to her collar bone.

"Don't think Wendy..."

Peter's whisper swept over her, shivers chasing their way down her spine as his hands brushed down her shoulders and arms, finding her hands. Encasing them in his, he tugged until she turned around, drawing her knees up so that she sat sideways on the bed, Peter on his knees in front of her. For a second they gazed at each other, Wendy's eyes wide and a little fearful, as if afraid to take the final step, as if refusing him would change anything. Peter's eyes were brilliant, full of triumph, sure that he had captured her as surely as a spider a fly, his web closing around her, tempting her beyond her fears, lulling her senses until she forgot everything but him, his mouth quirking into a small smile before he lowered his head and captured her mouth, her lips parting in surrender as he drew her into his arms and down onto the soft bed.

Within minutes clothes were scattered across the floor, their flesh dappled by the sunlight streaming through the windows as they lay entwined on the furs, Peter's body filling her, surrounding her, demanding surrender and receiving it wholeheartedly as Wendy gave into the siren call of his body, her own singing in tune with his as they gasped and panted their way to completion, Peter wrapping her in his arms as she arched and cried out, he's own release only seconds behind hers. In complete abandon they lay sprawled across the bed, uncaring of the world outside, they senses focused on their hammering hearts and heaving lungs, their bodies joined as if fused together.

Wendy slowly opened her eyes, her hand coming up to stroke Peters head where it rested on her breast, his soft curls brushing against her throat. He was a warm weight against her, his skin as soft as hers, an illusion of satin over steel as she stoked her hand down over his back, the muscles flexing under her finger tips.

"Peter?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"How is this possible...?"

"Whatcha mean?"

"I mean...I thought...that is...how can Neverland be...how can you be here...why is all this here...I just...I want to know."

Letting go a deep sigh, Peter raised his head, his elbows coming to read either side of her so that his weight lifted off her chest and allowed him to look into her face. A crease had formed between Wendy's eyes, shadows dulling their brilliance as she gazed up at him. Leaning down he kissed the frown line, her eyes closing for a second before resuming their thoughtful stare.

"Why do you need to know Wendy...can't you just accept that this is...that all this exists, just as your world is solid and real, so is Neverland..."

"I know its real Peter...I just...I thought Neverland was just for children...created for children to escape to..."

"It was...once. It was created from the stuff of dreams, of childish hopes...of wishes to come true. That hasn't changed...Neverland is still the place of dreams and fantasy...my dreams, my wishes...Neverland is my world...it is here because I am here."

For a long minute Wendy stared up at Peter, a suspicion lurking at the corner of her thoughts, her brain swirling with ideas and dawning comprehension.

"Peter...how old are you?"

"How old do you want me to be?"

"Don't be evasive...this is important...how long have you been here, lived in Neverland?"

"Its not important Wendy, this is important," He kissed her only to draw back when she jerked her head away, the frown line back between her eyes.

"I'm serious Peter...how long..." She paused, her mouth forming an oh, "you don't know, do you...you have no idea how long you've been here."

"It doesn't matter how long I've been here...all that really matters is that you are here with me now...we're together, as it was meant to be...always."

For another long minute Wendy continued her frowning gaze up into his face, his eyes still brilliant and unclouded, untroubled by doubt or questions. As if accepting the inevitable, Wendy's mouth broke into a smile, the frown dissipating, her eyes once more the blue of the sky.

"Always..." Entwining her arms around his neck, Wendy drew him down to her, their lips meeting and melding as passion flared into life, the morning sun painting streaks of gold across the bed as they once more dissolved into each other, two becoming one as the morning crept by the little house in the valley.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(ah well...onwards and upwards...hope I'm not overdosing on the warm fuzzies too much...I just love this couple...sigh)


	6. Who Goes There?

Title: Whither by Moonlight Author: squeezynz Chapter: Six - Who goes there?  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Author's Note: Thank you to all who enthusiastically welcomed me back to Still not quite up to my usual speed in getting the chapters out, but I'm sure that will not worry most of you. Thank you to all who continue to review with such lovely approbation for this story. It is the breath of life to an author to know that their story is touching a chord in so many readers, and giving them so much pleasure. Now, let us pick up the threads and read on.  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
The next few days passed in a blur, the nights soaked in passion and love, the days spent exploring and discovering the island that was to be their forever after. Peter reveled in showing the islands secrets off to Wendy, flying her to the far corners to explore hidden springs where the water bubbled up sweet and pure, the edges of the pools surrounded by heavenly scented water hyacinths, flowering heads thrust above the clear water as if vying for their attention. He also took her to the flatlands beyond the mountain, their course taking them swooping low over the tall grasses, the goats scattering as they surprised the animals grazing. Peter touched down and ran after a large billy goat until the animal turned and became the chaser, Peter dodging the wicked horns, laughing all the time. Wendy watched with mingled horror and amusement as Peter kept himself just beyond the goat's reach before launching himself into the air again, unscathed and unrepentant, to join her where she sat atop a large rock.  
  
"He nearly got you Peter....."  
  
"Hah...I'm too fast for the old goat....he'll never catch me!"  
  
With a twisting dive he scooped her up and they flew into the sky, wending their way back towards the mountain that dominated the center of the island, its peak glistening with snow. As they passed Wendy saw something flash, like the sun reflecting off glass, but even as she turned her head to look again it vanished, her mouth snapping shut, the words to draw Peter's attention dying on her lips as she felt Peter's hand tug at hers.  
  
They circled the peak and dived towards the slopes below, landing on the ridge above their valley, the purple blooms surrounding them as they walked along the faint track between the low shrubs.  
  
Wendy turned her face into the breeze, her hair lifting as she twirled, her fingertips brushing the flowers, their scent engulfing her as she passed.  
  
"What are we doing this afternoon Peter?"  
  
Up ahead, Peter had stopped, his hand raised to shade his eyes as he stared off into the distance. As Wendy reached him, he dropped his hand and turned to face her.  
  
"What do you want to do? We could visit the Indian village....or go swimming?"  
  
Feeling her dress clinging damply to her body, Wendy smiled broadly.  
  
"Swimming....but not in the Mermaid's Lagoon if you please."  
  
"Why not....I'm sure the Mermaid's would be happy to show you their underwater world."  
  
Seeing the teasing glint in his eyes, Wendy slapped him on the arm.  
  
"No thank you......somewhere less.....dangerous would be nice. Oh, what about the crocodile?"  
  
"Keeps to itself in the swamp......hardly ever see it these days." Peter shrugged, dismissing the giant creature that had swallowed his enemy.  
  
"Well that's a relief then. Do you have a favourite place?"  
  
Peter swept his arm to encompass the view from the ridge.  
  
"Everywhere is my favourite!" He laughed at Wendy's expression, before taking her hand and starting to tug her down the slope towards the grove of trees that sheltered their home.  
  
They ran down the hill, laughing and breathless, tumbling the last few yards like children. Wendy found herself blinded by her hair, her skirts up around her knees until she rolled to a halt, her arms outspread, covered in bits of grass. As she lay there recovering her breath, the sun was blotted out when Peter leant over her, his fingers brushing the strands of hair from her face as he grinned down at her.  
  
"Sure you want to go for a swim? We could do something else..." His voice trailed off as he wriggled his eyebrows at her and grinned suggestively. Wendy laughed and pushed him off, scrambling to her feet and carelessly brushing at the grass sticking to her dress.  
  
"Oh no you don't.....you promised me a swim!"  
  
"But Wendy...." Peter weedled, still kneeling on the grass.  
  
"A swim Peter......I'm hot and sticky and itchy."  
  
Jumping up, Peter shrugged and reached for her hand. "A swim it is.....and I know just the on."  
  
They flew past the grove that hid their home and on over the ridge behind. In the next valley there was a canyon with another stream running through it, but this one didn't meander, it was deep and leapt over the rocky ledges creating small waterfalls that plunged into pools in a cascade before chasing itself seaward. The whole valley was scattered with huge boulders, as if thrown there by some giant child playing marbles. Behind the rocks that bordered the torrent, the jungle pressed forward, the green a sharp contrast to the rich red of the boulders.  
  
"Oh Peter....how beautiful..."  
  
Peter had landed them on a broad, flat rock that overlooked the cascade, a wide pool just below it, the front ledge made for diving from. Casting a quick glance at Wendy, a cheeky grin plastered to his face, Peter let out a whoop and raced to the edge, leaping off into space and disappearing from Wendy's shocked sight.  
  
"PETER!" Wendy ran to the edge in time to see the water below ripple outward in rings of waves, Peter somewhere under the green water. She continued to look, seeing no sign of life, her eyes sweeping the pool. Just as she started to feel a frission of fear, Peter came up behind her and swept her up and over his shoulder, making her scream in mingled terror and relief.  
  
"What are you waiting for Wendy........let's SWIM!"  
  
Not waiting for her say no, Peter stepped off the ledge and they plunged down into the pool, Wendy finding herself hitting the water before a scream could leave her lips. Once under the surface she floated within the clear cool water before kicking for the surface, emerging spluttering and furious to find Peter waiting for her.  
  
"Oh you......you.......beast! You scared me.....!!"  
  
Peter only grinned at her, his wet hair plastered to his forehead as he dived away, swimming strongly for the shore. Several low rocks bordered the pool and he climbed onto one, peeling off his clothes to stand gloriously naked for a second before plunging back into the water.  
  
Wendy floundered towards the rocks, her skirts tangling her legs as she struggled to haul herself out of the water and onto the flat ledge. As she attempted to calm herself, Peter swam lazily over and rested his bare arms on the rock edge, looking up at Wendy as she stood undecided with her back to him.  
  
"Wendy?"  
  
"Peter........" Wendy stopped, clamping her lips shut as she strove to swallow down her anger. She wasn't really hurt, just suffering a reaction to her fright, her clothes feeling clammy against her suddenly chilled skin. "Just give me a minute Peter....I....I just have to get this dress off."  
  
Peter looked up at her rigid shoulders but decided to take her words at face value, his body slicing through the water as he pushed away from the rocks to swim across the pool. Glancing over her shoulder, Wendy breathed a sigh, her anger dissipating as she started to peel her sodden clothes off, a blush painting her skin pink as her skirts fell about her ankles. Still shy about baring herself, Wendy let her wet hair fall forward over her chest, her movements awkward as she slid back into the water, thankfully sinking down until only her head remained above the surface. Feeling the water swirl around her body helped calm her down, her hair floating around her like a cloud of silky seaweed, her toes digging into the slippery silt covering the rocky bottom of the pool. Feeling better she looked around, expecting to see Peter somewhere nearby. To her consternation he was missing again, the pool unruffled, only the sound of the falls evident as she twisted and turned to try and find him.  
  
"Peter...if you're hiding, it's not funny...." Wendy called, her arms crossing over her chest as she started to back towards the edge of the pool. "Peter?"  
  
Just as she was about to turn and pull herself out, a sound made her swing about and she saw Peter on the other side, his arms holding a bundle of something that Wendy couldn't make out. Relieved beyond belief, Wendy swam across the pool while Peter set his burden down before jumping into the water as Wendy approached. Surfacing, he shook his head to fling his wet hair out of his face then flashed Wendy a broad grin.  
  
"I thought you might be hungry....." He indicated the pile of leaves and flowers, watching as Wendy lifted herself half out of the water to investigate. She found the bundle contained a selection of tropical fruits, some familiar, others completely unknown to her. As she stared at the colourful array, Peter reached past her and plucked a rounded fruit from the mound, his fingers digging into the skin to peel it. Wendy watched in fascination as he quickly shucked the skin from the fruit, tossing the waste back into the jungle before breaking the orangy coloured flesh in half and offering her a share. Wendy reached for the fruit and watched as Peter shoved his half into his mouth and chewed, waiting for her to try hers.  
  
"Go on.....it's nice." Peter mumbled around his mouthful, making Wendy laugh.  
  
Separating a segment she popped it in her mouth and chewed. It was good, the rest of her half disappearing quickly as she savoured the tangy juice that slid coolly down her throat. For the next few minutes the pattern continued, both of them chest deep in the pool eating exotic fruits while birds twittered in the trees overhanging parts of the pools. Finally they were replete and Peter ducked under the water to rinse off his face and hands, Wendy following suit.  
  
When she surfaced she found Peter right in front of her, the heat from his body tangible in the water, his arms circling her waist as they floated in their private swimming pool.  
  
"That was lovely Peter......thank you."  
  
"I'm sorry I frightened you before......I didn't mean to."  
  
"I know you didn't.....you just caught me by surprise, this is all so new to me Peter....I've forgotten so much."  
  
"Then you're not angry with me?"  
  
"No....not angry at all." She entwined her arms around his neck, placing her lips on his for a sweet kiss, both of them tasting the other as they deepened the embrace, dueling with tongue and lips until the coolness of the water was forgotten as their bodies heated with passion. Peter held Wendy plastered against his body, his hardness digging into her belly as they swirled lazily together, her legs wrapping around his hips to bring her softness against him in an intimate embrace below the water. Lifting her slightly, Peter freed his hardened flesh from between their bodies and lowered Wendy until she felt him enter her, filling her with heat and want, her arms tightening around his neck as he sheathed himself in her body. Slowly they moved together, the water rippling out from their joining, their bodies dancing in the pool as the sun glinted off the waves.  
  
The only sounds that disturbed their union were the birds and the slap of water, their moans swallowed as they raced towards their completion, Peter's muscles rippling under Wendy's fingers as he held them joined together, her cries swallowed by his lips as she arched against him before flying apart in bliss, followed within seconds by his flesh pulsing inside her, setting her ablaze again.  
  
They stood in the pool, shuddering and shaking as their bodies slowed, their heart hammering in time with their panting breaths.  
  
"Oh Peter.......I never.....that was....."  
  
"Yeah.....wasn't it?"  
  
Together they giggled like children discovering something delightfully wicked and forbidden, Wendy blushing anew as Peter slipped from her body and floated on his back, his expression immensely smug, his arms outspread. Wendy drifted to the rocky bank and lifted herself up to see what was left of the fruit bounty. She turned her head to look back at Peter as she reached upwards, only to find her wrist grasped by a rough hand, a harsh voice laughing above her as she felt herself dragged upwards. Wendy screamed, her eyes barely taking in the rough garments of the man crouched on the rock ledge before a splash and a roar sounded behind her as Peter leapt from the water, a knife flashing in his hand. The man immediately let go of Wendy and she fell back into the water and under the surface, her hair blinding her to the fight taking place above her.  
  
When she finally surfaced, spluttering after taking a mouthful of water, she saw only Peter crouched on the ledge, his hand still grasping the blade, his shoulders bunched and tense as he stared into the dense foliage. Scrambling to the side of the pool, she coughed, Peter's head jerking around as he swung on his heels, the blade ready in his hand.  
  
"Who was that man.....Oh Peter who was he?"  
  
Ignoring her for a moment, Peter searched the jungle once more before turning and diving into the water, surfacing almost immediately, his hand grasping her arm to pull her towards the other bank.  
  
"We have to go on!"  
  
"Peter?"  
  
"Now Wendy......I'll explain when we get home."  
  
The afternoon spoiled, numbly Wendy choked down her fright and followed him over to the other bank, taking his hand when he offered it to help her out of the water. As quickly as they could they donned their still damp clothes, Wendy struggling with the fastenings until Peter swept her up impatiently and flew them out of the canyon and back to their sheltered home. During the short journey, Peter didn't speak, his expression forbidding. Wendy felt too shaken to question him and only clung more tightly as they approached their hidden haven. Once they touched down Peter almost dragged her into the little house, not stopping until they were deep inside before releasing her.  
  
"Get into some dry clothes, we're going to the Indian village."  
  
"Peter I don't understand...." Wendy shivered at his tone, her clothes clinging damply as she wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at him in shock and dismay. Peter seemed to ignore her, striding into the bedroom and flinging back the lid of a square chest that held a selection of clothes. He yanked off his wet shirt and shucked his trousers, uncaring of his state of undress as he sorted through the chest, finally choosing a sleeveless shirt and soft cotton pants that were cut-off below the knees. Wendy stood in the doorway, starting to shiver in earnest as shock dulled her senses, her limbs unresponsive. Peter suddenly noticed her lack of response and stopped his hurried dressing, looking up from tucking in his shirt to see her white face staring back at him.  
  
"Wendy we have to go.....get out of that dress......I can't leave you here alone....you'll be safe with Little Creek."  
  
"Who was he Peter? Why do I have to go and stay with Little Creek.....and what are you going to do?"  
  
As she spoke Peter tugged the dress off her shoulders, treating her like a doll as he undressed her, his manner impersonal as he stripped her wet clothes from her and used a spare shirt to roughly dry her off. Leaving her shivering, her arms wrapped around her middle, Peter rummaged in the chest, pulling out a crumpled dress, giving it a quick shake before throwing it over her head and redressing her. Her hair was a tangled mess but Peter ignored it, quickly lacing up the back of the dress as Wendy stood there docilely accepting his ministrations.  
  
"Why won't you tell me....was he one of the pirates?? I don't remember seeing him on the Jolly Roger....where did he come from? Are you going to see Smee?...." Her babble was abruptly shut off when Peter clamped his hand over her mouth, her eyes huge and dark over his knuckles.  
  
"I'll answer all your questions later....for now I need you to just accept that I'm taking you somewhere safe...and Little Creek will take care of you......"  
  
Withdrawing his hand, Peter drew her out of the bedroom and out of the house, clamping his arm around her waist as he launched them into the air and over the tree tops, his eyes keenly watching the hillside as they flew out of the valley and veered off towards the coast and the Indian Village.  
  
Their arrival amidst the peaceful Indians occasioned little comment, Peter taking her to a large tepee, the young brave seated outside leaping to his feet and disappearing inside as Peter and Wendy approached. Just as quickly Little Creek appeared, her button brown eyes taking in Peter's tense face and Wendy's woebegone expression. Without saying a word she enfolded Wendy into a tight embrace, the girl bursting into tears as Little Creek waited for an explanation.  
  
"Skinner's back."  
  
Peter's tersely spoken statement was sufficient to cause several of the Indian's gathered about to gasp out loud, Little Creek's mouth tightening even as she patted Wendy on the back.  
  
"When will you return?"  
  
"When its safe again.....take care of her for me, she's had a bad fright."  
  
Wendy was trying to get herself under control, embarrassed to be crying in the middle of the village as well as trying to hear the conversation taking place over her head. Pulling out of the Indian woman's embrace, she swiped at her wet eyes, feeling heat flood her cheeks at the circle of curious faces surrounding them.  
  
"Peter?"  
  
Exchanging a meaningful glance with Little Creek, Peter stepped forward and placed his hands on Wendy's shoulder, lowering his head to peer into her face.  
  
"I won't be gone for long....you'll be safe here."  
  
"Safe from what??"  
  
Dropping his hands, Peter moved away from her, his hand dropping to the dagger at his side as he prepared to leave her.  
  
"Promise me you won't leave the village....stay with Little Creek, I'll be back soon."  
  
"Peter?"  
  
Before she could voice her bewilderment, Peter had already lifted into the air and turned his back on the Indian village, his body streaking away to disappear beyond the cliff behind the encampment.  
  
Staring after him in shocked dismay, Wendy felt a hollowness at his casual dismissal of her, her eyes welling once more as desolation swept over her. Shooing away the curious, Little Creek once more wrapped a skinny arm around Wendy's shoulder, gently leading the girl around and towards the big tepee behind them. With a final glance at the sky where Peter had vanished, Wendy gave into the woman's urgings and ducked down to enter the tent.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Peter was furious, his body a blur as he put on a burst of speed to take him over a ridge and down towards the huddle of buildings that constituted the small settlement populated by the surviving pirates from the Jolly Roger. The ship sat rocking slightly in the swell, out in the bay, its prow pointed towards the shore, the chain of the anchor stretched tight by the outgoing tide.  
  
Peter landed on the broad path that lead down the slope to the beach, the ramshackle buildings on either side strangely silent as he padded down the center of the road, his head turning from side to side, listening for any sign of the usual occupants. The hamlet appeared deserted, only bird song greeting his calls for someone, anyone to come out and show themselves. On reaching the beach, he stood with his hands on his hips, his legs apart, surveying the ship, its sails furled tightly against its spars, the deck as deserted as the tiny town.  
  
"I know you're there Mister Smee, why are the other's hiding from me?"  
  
Slowly Peter turned to face the man approaching cautiously across the sand.  
  
"Not hiding from you exactly Peter.....but you could say you're the cause of their need to hide."  
  
"Skinner attacked me....attacked Wendy in the Cascade. What do you know about it?"  
  
For a moment Smee stared blankly at Peter, his mouth opening like a fish before he recovered and flapped his hands. "Skinner? He's back?"  
  
Peter, his hands still on his hips, stalked towards the old man, his head held arrogantly as he strutted across the sand, one hand resting on his sword hilt. "Yes Mister Smee.....it was Skinner."  
  
"Oh dear....oh deary me....we thought, that is....he wasn't supposed to come back."  
  
Smee wrung his hands, oblivious to Peter stalking around him until the younger man leant in and hissed in the old pirates ear, making him flinch. "Skinner was dead, that was what you told me......died of the ague or some such illness. Now I find him hale and hearty and trying to take Wendy from me...what do you know Smee?"  
  
His face pale, Smee dropped to his knees in the sand, his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. "Please don't kill me, it wasn't my idea....it was the others, they said he wouldn't come back if he was sent to the end of the island, and we haven't seen him for so many years now, we thought he'd died of hunger or something!"  
  
"He looked remarkably healthy for a dead man Smee....."  
  
Smee now dropped to his face in the sand, his backside in the air, his whole body quivering like a jelly. Peter drew his sword and swished it in the air, Smee shaking even harder when Peter sliced the air above the pirates head.  
  
"There's something you're not telling me Smee.....why would the other's hide......unless there's something worse than Skinner."  
  
Immediately Smee started to wail, tucking himself more firmly in the sand so that the old man resembled a hedgehog. Peter hooked his foot in the mans ribs and rolled him onto his back, Smee covering his face as Peter loomed over him.  
  
"You'd better tell me Smee.....or I'll start by removing some of those crabby toes you so often complain about...."  
  
Peter lowered his sword blade and hovered it over Smee's exposed feet, the pirate curling his toes as far as their stiffening joints would allow him.  
  
"He'll kill me....." Smee wailed again when Peter placed his blade against the skin of his little toe, the boy grinning wickedly down at the blubbering first-mate.  
  
"Not my toes....please not my toes!!" Scrabbling, Smee tucked his feet under his legs and rose up onto his knees, effectively shielding his wrinkled toes from Peter's sword. "I'll tell you....but it will be the death of me, mark my words."  
  
"Spit it out Smee......who else is looking to do me, and mine, harm ?"  
  
Like a balloon pricked with a pin, Smee sagged, his face buried in his hands so that his voice became muffled.  
  
"hook."  
  
"Speak up man, I can't hear you when you mumble!" Peter nudged the pirate with his foot. Dropping his hands, Smee glared up at the youth standing over him.  
  
"It's Hook, I tell you, Hook has returned....and Skinner is with him!"  
  
For a long moment Peter froze, his blood seemingly stilled in his veins, his eyes fixed on Smee's face disbelievingly. Then suddenly he moved, throwing his head back and letting go a shout of laughter, his teeth white against his tanned skin as he grinned down at the cringing pirate on the sand.  
  
"Is that the best you can do.......Hook? He's dead....dead and gone. There's no bringing him back to try and scare me Smee!"  
  
"I'm telling the truth.....Hook is back.....and he means to be avenged on you Peter Pan......avenged I say...."  
  
His laughter dying, Peter looked down on the old man at his feet.  
  
"You must be mad to expect me to believe you. As you obviously won't or can't tell me what I need to know, I'll have to find out for myself...." Sheathing his sword, Peter swung on his heel and started to march back up the beach, leaving Smee on his knees in the sand.  
  
"You fool! I'm telling you the truth........it's HOOK!"  
  
Ignoring Smee's cries, Peter quickened his pace. His mind was in a whirl as he walked through the small pirate settlement, his eyes staring blankly at the disheveled huts with their nets and fishing pots strung up to dry. Soon the huts were left behind him, his feet carrying him away from the coast and into the cool depths of the forest, the cry of the gulls like echoes on the wind as the trees enfolded him into their heart.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Ooooooh the plot thickens....still with me?? Oh good....sorry about the long gap in chapters...got alot to do in the real world, promise to try and get more time to write in the near future. Tally Ho!! 


	7. A Fly in the Ointment

Title: Whither By Moonlight Author: squeezynz Chapter: Seven - The fly in the ointment.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Peter flew low over the dank swamp that hid itself near the center of the island. He hadn't visited the area for years, taking at face value the reports from the Indians that the legendary ticking crocodile still haunted the muddy ponds and slimy banks. He had only seen the beast a few times himself since Hook had been devoured, and those few times had only been glimpses when he'd flown over the area, always passing, never stopping. Now he sought it in earnest and his eyes skimmed over the greasy looking water, marred here and there with the skeletal arm of a rotting tree branch sticking out of the ooze. The day was drawing to a close and the light under the tall swamp trees was green and gloomy, a shiver chasing down his spine as he dodged the dark tree-trunks, all the time looking for signs of the crocodiles recent existence. He rounded a bend and pulled up short, hovering in the air above a shallow pool, the huge rotting carcass of the giant croc laying on its side in the middle. Peter drew closer, inspecting the grisly find with curious eyes. The beast had always been a part of Neverland, always a danger to avoid, its lumbering body easy to hear approaching when it left its swamp home and headed for the coast. Now it lay, already a skeleton, the flesh barely hanging on the bone, white showing through the leathery hide, its body half buried in the mud. It had obviously been dead for a long time, a lazy crowd of flies hovering over the remains. Landing on a convenient log, Peter crouched down and inspected what was left, his nose wrinkling at the still nauseating smell of rotten croc, his eyes tracing the curve of the creatures belly, noting the wide gash that had split the beast open from breastbone to tail. It was a wonder to Peter that there was anything to find at all after all this time, but he didn't dwell on it for long. It was obvious the creature had made it back to its lair only to have its meal hack its way out from the inside.  
  
What did strike Peter as curious, was the fact that if Hook had clawed his way out of the creature, and presumably survived as there was not other skeleton to be seen, why had Hook taken so long to reappear?  
  
Wrinkling his nose again, Peter rose to his feet and turned away from the stinking pond, his mind already leaping ahead to try and figure out Hook's next move. His heart thumped in his chest as he rose into the air and set off across the island, his eyes narrowed as he searched for anything that would give him a clue to where Hook might be. That Skinner had joined forces with Peter's old enemy was no surprise. Skinner had been trouble from the moment the Jolly Roger had been returned to the pirates. Skinner had immediately assumed command, but was just as quickly ousted by the crew, none of them wanting to implement his plans for pillage and mayhem against the Indians. Skinner had remained aboard, but had continued to try and turn any and all of the crew to his way of thinking. Largely he was ignored, eventually seeming to blend in with the other pirates, building himself a shack at the end of town and living peaceably. All that was shattered the night Sam Owens was found with his throat cut and his boat missing. The other pirates had searched for the missing man but not found a trace of him or the boat and it had been assumed that he'd sailed for the horizon and drowned. Now it seemed the man had fled into the island and been hiding, somehow finding Hook and once more combining to spread fear over Neverland. Obviously the pirates knew something of the situation, Smee knew that Hook was alive and feared for his own skin, it remained to be seen how much the Indians knew. But first, he had to pay a visit to a certain lagoon and find out from those that knew everything what was really going on.  
  
Leaping into the air he twisted around and flew like an arrow towards the coast, the black castle a beacon that drew him onwards as the sky darkened and the sun sank like a fireball below the sea.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Wendy sat fiddling with the beaded edge of her dress, her head bent, face downcast, listening half-heartedly to the babble of voices as Little Creek's family prepared the evening meal. They had been kindness itself in opening their home to her, Little Creek bringing a dress that had been offered by one of her son's wives for Wendy to wear in place of the crumpled dress. Not wanting to offend her hostess, Wendy complied and found herself wearing a silky soft knee length dress, its edges fringed and decorated with small bead work, the colour complimenting her honey blond hair and creamy skin. Soft moccasins cushioned her feet and a pretty shell necklace adorned her neck. Little Creek beamed at her when the women were finished, telling Wendy she looked like a princess, but Wendy could only smile wanly, allowing herself to be lead around like a doll, her heart heavy. She'd tried at the start to find out what was happening with Peter, her questions seemingly falling on deaf ears until she gave up, submitting to the pampering and vowing to get Peter to give her the answers when he returned. Now it was dark and he'd not come back and no one could tell her when he would return.  
  
A hand on her arm drew her attention to the right. One of the grandchildren was sitting beside her and held out a bowl, the child's face expectant. Smiling, Wendy took the bowl.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You're Peter's Lady, aren't you?"  
  
"Um....yes, I am. Who are you?"  
  
The girl child settled herself beside Wendy, her small hands smoothing her dress importantly. Wendy guessed that she was no more than ten years old.  
  
"My full name is Most Precious Butterfly, but my family call me Fly."  
  
"Well my full name is Wendy Moira Angela Darling, but my family just call me Wendy."  
  
"Oh.....can I call you Wendy?"  
  
"Please. And may I call you Fly?"  
  
The child nodded. Wendy took a sip from her bowl and found it contained a herbal tea, sweet and fragrant. After a mouthful she found that she was thirsty and downed the whole bowl, the flavour very pleasant on her tongue. Fly watched her and grinned when Wendy frowned to find the bowl empty.  
  
"Would you like some more?"  
  
"Yes please Fly, that was delicious."  
  
The child gracefully climbed to her feet and padded over to the other side of the tent where several women were attending to a bank of pots containing the evening meal. Fly handed one the empty bowl and it was quickly refilled from a jug to the side. She returned and handed it to Wendy who smiled and thanked her. They sat companionably side by side watching as the tent started to fill up with people. The men, tall and handsome, sat in a circle on soft furs around a small central fire, the smoke spiraling up to disappear through a flap in the roof. The women passed out bowls and beakers to the men, the smell of food filling the tent. Other children were scattered around the edges of the tent, some grouped together playing quiet games while the adults ate their meal. Fly stayed with Wendy, content to watch her family taking their meal, offering snippets of information on one member or another as an aside to Wendy, adding amusing anecdotes about one or an others prowess with the bow, or hunting successes. It kept Wendy amused and took her mind off Peter completely. Fly chattered all through the meal, Wendy contributing by telling the girl about London and her life in the little house in Bloomsbury, Fly agog to hear about the most ordinary and everyday things. The two were so caught up in their sharing of lifestyles that it was a surprise when Little Creek approached to show Wendy where she would be sleeping that night. Most of her large family had departed to their own tents after consuming their meal, their wives and children already gone to bed. Fly had already asked her mother if she could stay with Wendy and had been told not to keep Peter's Lady up all night with her chatter. Little Creek led the pair to two soft fur covered pallets near to the door, the two girls laying down as Little Creek extinguished the lamps hanging from the tent poles, leaving one to provide a night light.  
  
As the sounds of the tent settled down and the soft rumble of sleeping people filled the night, Wendy lay under her warm blanket and stared up at the walls of the tepee. Beside her Fly wriggled to get comfortable, her knee bumping Wendy as she turned over.  
  
"What's the matter Fly? Can't you sleep?"  
  
"I have to go.......out."  
  
"Oh.....I think I need to go "out" too...."  
  
As quietly as they could, Wendy and Fly made their way to the opening of the tepee and stepped outside, breathing deeply of the cool night air as they stretched before setting off for the camp latrine. Here and there a fire still burned and they saw the silhouettes of the braves who were set to guard the camp, more as a routine than because they feared an attack. Wendy and Fly passed beyond the line of tents and followed the path to the rough lean-to that sheltered the latrine. After taking care of their personal needs, the two girls walked back along the path. Dawdling, Wendy staring up at the bright stars like diamonds scattered on velvet across the sky, Fly pointing out to her various constellations that were as familiar to her as the freckles on her nose. Fly led Wendy off the path and up a small knoll to better see the sky. There they sat side by side, the small breeze making the tall grasses around them rustle and sigh.  
  
"I often come here. It's quiet at night."  
  
"I used to sit at my window and stare out at the stars on a summer evening, the air was always so soft......just like here."  
  
Companionably they sat staring up at the wide expanse of clear sky. After a long while Wendy felt goose bumps start up on her body. Shivering she rubbed her arms, turning to Fly to suggest they go back. As the Indian girl turned towards her, Wendy saw her eyes open wide and her mouth open to scream. At that moment a hand clamped down on Wendy's mouth and an arm encircled her chest, pulling her roughly to her feet. Fly was also being treated similarly, the Indian girl kicking and lashing out at her captor. Wendy bit down hard on the hand covering her mouth. Her attacker let out an oath and drew his hand back, his fist connecting with Wendy's jaw as he spun her around to face him, her body slumping to the ground as he flapped his injured hand and swore loudly.  
  
The other man was still holding a wriggling Fly, his arms clamped around her small body, his hand firmly muffling her cries.  
  
"Keep it quiet you fool....you'll have every brave in the camp down on us...."  
  
"She bit me!"  
  
"Let's hope you didn't kill her with your great ham fists....pick her up, we'll have to take both of them."  
  
"Why not just cut 'er throat and be done with it?"  
  
"Blood thirsty cull, ain'tcha.....I'll dump her when we're far enough away, she'll run back and alert the camp, but they won't bother coming after this one......she's not one of theirs. But if this little brat went missing.....there'd be all hell to pay....we don't need a feud with the redskins....just stick to the plan!"  
  
"Whatever......still think you should cut 'er throat..."  
  
Still muttering the man bent down and hoisted Wendy onto his shoulder, grunting at her weight as he shifted her to a more comfortable, for him, position. The other man tucked Fly into his waist, careful to keep his hand still clamped over her mouth.  
  
The two men loped off down the slope and carried their burdens into the dark of the forest, heading steadily away from the coast. After an hour, Wendy was still unconscious and the man carrying Fly dumped her unceremoniously on the ground.  
  
"You can go home now brat....tell your family that the other one is now the property of James Hook....and not to follow or try to find her...understand?"  
  
Fly lay crouched on the ground, staring up at the men as if committing their features to her memory, before she nodded slowly. The bigger of the two men grunted and took a swipe at her, his huge fist just missing her as she scrambled away.  
  
"Get lost......go 'ome......."  
  
"Leave her....she'll go...."  
  
The two men turned to leave, the shorter glancing back at Fly to make sure she wasn't following. Fly stayed where she was, not moving until the shadows swallowed the men's bodies, Wendy's hair a bright banner in the moonlight where it hung down the broader man's back.  
  
She was torn, not sure whether to run as fast as she could back to the camp to raise the alarm, or to use all the cunning taught to her by River Dog and track the men, find out where they were taking her friend. Fly chewed her lip, frozen by indecision for a minute or two while the moon looked down unblinkingly. Around her the sounds of the night were once more filling the air before Fly finally moved. On stealthy feet she slipped between the trees, her face intent as she followed the path taken by the abductors.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Above the forest that hid Wendy's kidnappers from his gaze, Peter flew towards the Indian village. He'd spent hours trying to get information out of the mermaids. He felt frustrated and angry that his usual source of all things happening in his world had suddenly decided to become mute. After leaving the swamp he'd stopped back at the house in the valley and collected his pan-pipes before continuing on to the Black Castle and the Mermaid Lagoon that nestled over the headland. He'd settled down on the flat rock with the starlit waves lapping at its edge. There he'd started to play a haunting tune that wafted out over the water, combining with the rippling water to produce a magical effect. Almost immediately heads started to pop out of the water, curious Mermaids, their gleaming eyes fixed on the youth playing for them in the moonlight. Well aware of his audience, Peter continued to play, seeing the Mermaids out of the corner of his eye, their sleek bodies diving below the surface to appear a little closer each time until they were only a few feet away, watching him intently.  
  
Slowly Peter wound the tune to its end, the last note hanging on the night air, fading away to leave only the lap of the waves in its wake. Looking up he saw a bank of eyes regarding him, the Mermaids sleek heads rising above the water but not coming any closer. Leaning forward Peter called to them in their tongue, his lips and teeth forming the complex clicks and whistles that bid them come closer. For long minutes they remained unmoving, then one dived under the water and approached the rock. When she surfaced she pulled herself half out of the water, her webbed fingers splayed on the rock ledge as she leant towards him.  
  
"What does the Pan want with us?"  
  
"I want to know where Hook is?"  
  
"Hook is dead......long time."  
  
"No.......Hook is not dead....the crocodile is dead...but apparently Hook is very much alive. Where is he?"  
  
"Why the Pan want to know.......Hook not bother the Pan for long, long time. Why Pan want to know now?"  
  
"I should have known that Hook wouldn't die that easily.....and you should have told me what you knew.....why have you kept me in the dark?"  
  
"We fear you Pan.....you have the power to do us great harm. We fear you but we fear him more.....he has changed.....where he was cruel, now he is without mercy, where he was uncaring, now he is deadly to our species.....Hook has become what we fear most.....our extinction."  
  
Peter blinked at the creature, not understanding how these masters of the water could fear a mere human.  
  
"I don't understand you....how can Hook cause your extinction?"  
  
"Has the Pan not wondered why there are so few fairies in Neverland?"  
  
"What do you mean? There are plenty of......" Peter's voice trailed off. He had lost contact with the Fairy population after Tink's passing. He'd been offered another fairy child to take her place, but Peter had declined, not wanting to usurp his friends memory. Since that time he'd only had sporadic encounters with the fairies, their lives only touching occasionally over the years. Now that he thought about it, the fairies had been less in evidence the last few years. Peter had put it down to his simply not noticing their absence, now it took on a more sinister implication and he turned troubled eyes to the Mermaid.  
"What has happened to the fairies?"  
  
"The Pan forgot his friends, no longer visited the fairy tree, the Pan no longer the protector of the fairies...they started to die."  
  
"No..." Peter's whisper interrupted the mermaid, but she ignored it and continued.  
  
"They started to vanish from the wild woods, started to disappear from the favourite places....until now they are almost all gone....and it is all Hook's doing."  
  
"I didn't know.....I....." Peter ducked his head in shame. He'd been so caught up in his own problems he'd completely missed what had been happening in his own world. "Is it too late?"  
  
"Not too late.....the Queen still lives, in hiding with the remains of her people. If the Pan wants to keep them alive, he must safeguard their future and destroy Hook, before he destroys Neverland forever."  
  
"How do I find Hook?"  
  
"Find your Wendy.....and you will find Hook."  
  
"But she's safe with Little Creek....how can Hook harm her there?"  
  
"She is not safe at the village anymore....."  
  
At her words, Peter reared back, already leaping to his feet to race back to the Indians, but the Mermaid grasped his ankle and held him when he would have flown away.  
  
"Always impetuous, the Pan need to learn caution. Hook wants you to fly to her rescue....but you will need help. Go to the Indian's they will help, also the pirates of the Jolly Roger...they will help too."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"The Mermaids will help too.....it is in our best interest to keep the Pan happy." She grinned toothily at Peter before letting go of his leg and slipping back into the water.  
  
With his release Peter leapt into the air and flew quickly along the coast, over the headland and across the tops of the trees of the moonlight forest, their leaves like waves, marking his passage.  
When he arrived at the Indian encampment he found it in a uproar. Little Creek's tent was surrounded by a crowd of noisy braves, the campfires blazing merrily, casting a rosy glow over the faces of the Indians. Peter's arrival caused another uproar as he strode through the gathering, the people parting to let him through. Little Creek met him at the entrance to her tepee, her face looking old and lined as she bent her head at his approach.  
  
"We have failed you Peter.....your woman has been taken, along with one of my grandchildren....they have been gone an hour or more."  
  
"The mermaids warned me as much....did anyone see which way they went?"  
  
"Fly likes to watch the skies from the knoll above the village." A women with anxious eyes pushed herself forward, Little Creek introducing her as Fly's mother. "She often slips out at night to count the stars, if they were out seeing to their business, Fly would certainly want to show the Wendy Lady her favourite place."  
  
"Show me."  
  
The woman pushed through the crowd of onlookers and jogged across the compound, Peter following with Little Creek and her sons behind. When they reached the top of the small hill the braves brought forward the torches, the flames showing the flattened grass and scuffed ground indicating the struggle that had taken place in the dark. Peter saw something and bent down to pick it up. It was the beaded shell necklace that Wendy had worn, it lay in Peter's hand, broken and forlorn.  
  
"Who has done this...who has stolen our child and your woman?" Wailed Fly's mother, her face stricken.  
  
Peter clenched his fist, the beads digging into his palm.  
  
"Hook.....he wouldn't have done the deed, but he is behind this."  
  
Little Creeks silence said all Peter needed to know. The Indians knew about Hook and hadn't told him.  
  
"How long, Little Creek....??"  
  
"We had heard rumours....not proof. We weren't sure if they were true."  
  
"So you didn't bother to tell me?"  
  
"We didn't believe them....we'd seen nothing to indicate he had returned, and you were so caught up in what was happening to you."  
  
"You should have told me Little Creek. Now Wendy and your grandchild could pay for your silence with their lives."  
  
Enraged Peter swung on his heel and marched down the hill, the Indians parting to let him go. The braves looked to their mother for guidance, the old woman shaking her head and waving for them to follow Peter, but at a distance.  
  
Peter stalked blindly back to the Indian village, his mind in turmoil, his heart heavy. He couldn't believe how he'd been deceived by those he trusted. He was supposed to be the guardian of Neverland, its Champion, its Protector. But now he had found out that the people he was supposed to protect were keeping the most important information from him, treating him like a child, putting his Wendy in harms way as well as one of their own.  
  
On his return to the village the people stood back, leaving him at its center, his angry expression keeping everyone at bay. Little Creek arrived back with her sons and approached Peter.  
  
"What can we do Peter? They already have a head start of several hours and it will be difficult to track them before morning."  
  
"Then lets make the most of the hours we have before dawn. Tell me everything you've heard about Hook and his henchmen.....everything!"  
  
Inclining her head, Little Creek indicated for Peter to precede her into the tent. With a last sweeping glare at the people standing around him, Peter ducked down and entered the tepee, Little Creek and her sons just behind him.  
  
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Wendy awoke with a jerk, her stomach lurching, propelling her onto her side to retch weakly what little she had onto the dusty floor. Her jaw ached abominably, her fingers finding the whole side of her face sore and bruised. With a final cough, Wendy flopped onto her back and stared up at the wooden ceiling wreathed in cobwebs, chinks of light squeezing through the cracks and knots in the planking. She felt sore all over, her ribs aching as if she'd been pressing them against something for a long time. Her head ached as well, her eyes gritty, her mouth dry. Rolling onto her other side, she tried to rise only to find her limbs unbearably weak and shaky. Sucking in a deep breath, Wendy pushed herself upright and sat up, her head hanging as she waited for the room to stop spinning. After a minute she raised her head to stare around her prison, the small room comprising nothing so much as a potting shed in size with a plank door on one side and no windows. Pushing herself to her feet she leant against the rough wall a moment to catch her breath before feeling her way along the splintery wood towards the door. It was secured with a simple wooden lift-latch but despite her best efforts she couldn't budge it. After rattling the catch she gave up and panted before pushing herself away from the door and feeling her way along to the opposite corner. Her bare toes kicked something and the she bent over to find a stool laying on its side. Righting the only bit of furniture in the dingy room, she sat down and rested her aching head against the her prison wall.  
  
She remembered little of the journey, her last recollection being of staring up at the bright stars before something connected with her face, the blow sending her to oblivion filled with coarse hands and evil smelling clothes. As she sat trying to remember, several sounds started to impinge on her consciousness. From the light coming through the narrow slats it was obviously morning and she could here the sound of rushing water to her left. Not the lap of waves but more like a stream or cascade. Closing her eyes, she listened harder and heard the low murmur of voices along with the crackle and pop of a small fire. She couldn't make out what the voices were saying but they appeared to be male, presumably her kidnappers. Wendy licked her dry lips and wished they had left her a pitcher of water or something. Feeling a little stronger she rose to her feet and went back to the door, pressing herself to the wood and raising her fist to thump against the planking.  
  
"Hey out there.....let me out of here!"  
  
She listened and heard footsteps approach.  
  
"You shut ya'self up in there....no point in shoutin' and carry'n on, there's nowt to hear you missy."  
  
"Please, I'm thirsty, can't I have some water?"  
  
"No....master say nothin' about giving you nowt...so quite yelpin'"  
  
Her jailor moved away from the door and Wendy thumped the door again several times but he didn't return. Shortly the faint murmur of voices started up again and Wendy felt tears prick her eyes with her helplessness. Nausea gripped her again and she collapsed to the floor, one arm wrapped around her waist while her other held her hair back as she wretched again, producing nothing but more pain and leaving her sobbing in frustration.  
  
Finding her way back to the stool she sat down. She wondered anew who the man was that had attacked her at the pool, and why Peter wouldn't tell her about it. She also wondered what had happened to Fly, whether she had been killed or kidnapped as well. Wendy hoped that she'd managed to escape, maybe even been able to raise the alarm back at the village. But if she had, surely Peter would have found Wendy and rescued her by now, just as he did when she had walked the plank, catching her in his arms before she hit the turbulent surface of the sea. The thought that little Precious Butterfly had been killed brought tears to Wendy's eye, her hand muffling her sobs as she wept for the girls fate, unmindful of her own perilous state.  
  
The minutes lengthened into hours as the morning wore on and the hut began to heat up, becoming stifling with no opening to bring relief for the prisoner. Wendy started to feel faint from the heat and lack of water, the thin stripes of sunlight dancing in front of her eyes as she rose from her hard stool only to collapse senseless on the dusty floor. Minutes later a commotion outside announced the arrival of the real reason she had been brought to the hut. Striding up to the door, the man ripped away the plank of wood used to secure the latch and flung open the door, bracing himself on the flimsy framework while he waited for his sight to become adjusted to the gloom. What he saw brought an oath to his lips and the men standing behind him shrank back a little.  
  
"Didn't you think to leave the wench a bucket of water or anything?"  
  
"You didn't leave us any orders of what to do with 'er after we nabbed her."  
  
"Dolt....." The man entered the cabin, his aristocratic nose wrinkling from the smell of bile and dirt. Gazing down at his disheveled prisoner, he lifted the undamaged corner of his mouth in a sneer of disgust. "Not so sweet now my lovely.....but we'll fix that. Don't want dear Peter to think we've been mistreating his precious darling...."  
As if just realizing his pun, the man threw back his head and laughed, before turning on his polished heel and striding out of the tiny hut.  
  
"Bring her to the cave, and make sure there's no evidence of her having been here.....don't want to make it too easy for the lad, now do we?"  
  
The men leapt to carry out his orders, almost getting stuck in the doorway as they hurried to retrieve their insensible captive from her inadequate prison. The bigger man carried the limp body out into the sunshine, following his master along the beach to the cave entrance, cunningly concealed from view by a series of huge boulders that formed a maze like pathway to the cave mouth. The remaining man gave the hut a cursory glance before leaving it as they'd found it and turning his attention to gathering up their few belongings and dowsing the fire. He then hurried after his companions until all three disappeared into the side of the cliff as if they'd never been.  
  
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(aha!! me hearty's....me thinks the game's afoot...and it ain't twelve inches!! (strange british humour there)....anyway, will try to hurry up with the next installment....I want to know what happens next too!!....) 


	8. Something old, something renewed

Title: Whither By Moonlight Author: Squeezynz Chapter: Eight - Something old, something renewed.  
  
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Authors Note: Apologies for the delay between chapters. Been caught up in the day to day mundane and it's getting harder to find time to write. I'm determined to correct the situation, but for the time being, mundane and real life have the upper hand. Hopefully, the balance will be redressed and my muse will come out of hiding. In the meantime, thank you again to all that review, especially my more enthusiastic fans, you are treasures and I love every one of you.....hugs  
  
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The tunnels apparently ran forever. It had been hours since Wendy had regained her senses from her swoon in the stifling hut. When she had opened her eyes it was to find herself slung over the shoulder of a man, her head hanging down his back. She had immediately started to struggle, the man crying out as she landed a knee in his chest, her fists pummelling and pinching his back. With an oath, she found herself dumped on the dusty floor, her head connecting with the rock to leave her dazed for a minute. In that time voices were shouting back down the passageway and she saw flickering lights approaching where she sat.  
  
Her kidnapper had his boot raised to administer a kick when one of the men held up his hand imperiously and the boot dropped to the floor.  
  
"She's a She-Devil...she fought like a tiger.....look what she did!" Her captor complained, gesturing to Wendy on the floor.  
  
Wendy sat with her head bowed, gathering her wits as she tried to listen above the pounding of her heart.  
  
"She's a mere wench....more like a kitten than a tiger....stop ya whining and take this torch."  
  
The voice was rough and unrecognizable. The man himself was only a darker shadow in the stone corridor, his face hidden from her as she squinted upwards.  
  
"Who are you? What do you want with me?"  
  
"Ah well...that would be giving the game away too soon, my beauty. I can think of a hundred reasons why a man would steal you away, but for now the less you know the better. Now get on your feet and lets move."  
  
Slowly, Wendy got to her feet and stood, one hand braced against the wall of the tunnel as she faced her kidnappers.  
  
"No....."  
  
The three men had been about to turn and continue their trek, but at her firm refusal they paused, the pitch soaked torches throwing out strange shapes on the floor and rocky walls.  
  
"Would you rather be carried the rest of the way over Harry's shoulder, I would think it a rather uncomfortable way to travel."  
  
"I don't want to go with you at all.......I-I-want to go home."  
  
Low pitched chuckles greeted her childish request, Wendy's eyes pricking with tears at her own foolishness.  
  
"I think not.....now I believe we've wasted enough time, Miss Darling, you have your choice....over Harry's shoulder or on your own feet....quickly now, I'm an impatient man."  
  
Tilting her chin, Wendy clamped her lips together and turned her shoulder to the men, her hands balled into fists as she marched past them.  
  
"Right lads, looks like we're one our way again.....lets pick up the pace, I want to be home, before my stomach cleaves to my spine."  
  
The strange party continued their tramp down the pitch black tunnel, the flickering light from the torches barely able to pierce the stygian gloom. Wendy often stumbled over the rough ground, a hand ever ready to steady her, her quick glances at her shadowy companion not adding anything to her knowledge of him. All she could make out was his dress and hair, both of them the same unrelieved black of a moonless night, only the occasional glint of metal to betray the presence of a brace of pistols across his chest and a sword at his side. He seemed dressed the same as the pirates with him, but various clues led Wendy to believe he was anything but one of the common crew. His person was clean, unlike the man Harry, who reeked of fish and sweat. He also spoke with a faint accent, although roughened, as if he'd been too close to a bonfire and inhaled the smoke. His hand, when he held her elbow to steady her, was as strong as steel but his nails were clipped and cared for, not jagged like the other man walking ahead of them. In all he was a mystery and Wendy pondered the riddle as they continued their trek into the depths of goodness knew where. Soon the lack of water and food started to once more sap her strength, her next stumble almost sending her into the embrace of the man at her side as she half-fainted with fatigue.  
  
In a swift move the man swept Wendy into his arms, cradling her against his chest before resuming their journey through the tunnel.  
  
"Not long now, my beauty, we'll see you taken care off properly, don't want Peter to accuse me of damaging his property, now do we?"  
  
Too absorbed in the pain of her feet and head, Wendy could only murmur a reply, her eyes sliding shut as she gave in to her growing weakness.  
  
When next she awoke it was to find herself lying on a mattress in a small cave-like room, a tiny niche holding a spluttering candle that poorly illuminated her surroundings, a door the only item to relieve the rocky walls.  
  
A rough blanket had been thrown over her, but despite that she shivered with cold, the candle only throwing out an illusion of warmth against the chill of the hard stone. Clutching her scratchy shawl around her shoulders, Wendy struggled to her feet, her tongue feeling thick and swollen in her mouth. Near the door, on the floor, someone had placed a jug on a tray, beside it a plate with something on it. Desperate for something to drink, Wendy staggered to the door and fell to her knees, shaking hands clasping the jug and lifting it to her lips. The water was cool and faintly brackish, but to the drinker it was the finest sweet wine, slipping past her lips and down her throat in an unceasing flow.  
  
"Oh God....thank God..."  
  
"Don't be thanking him too soon miss....the God's can be fickle in this place."  
  
Wendy started, the voice coming from above her, the jug almost slipping from her suddenly nerveless fingers.  
  
"Who said that? Where are you?"  
  
"Oh don't bother your pretty eyes to try and find me, you can't, I'm not here."  
  
Thoroughly unnerved, Wendy stared about the small chamber, the candlelight showing her nothing but the rude pallet on the floor and the closed door. Swallowing, she placed the jug back on the tray and shuffled around so that her back pressed up against the wall.  
  
"Why can't I see you? Am I going mad?"  
  
The disembodied voice chuckled to itself before speaking again.  
  
"No m'dear, not mad...although I could be forgiven for thinking that I was mad m'self...."  
  
Scraping her hair back behind her ear, Wendy reached up to rub her eyes, as if checking to make sure they were open. When she lowered her hand, she saw something flickering uncertainly, an outline that wavered and shimmied but became more solid the longer she looked. After a long minute she could make out a man's shape, the rock wall clearly visible through him still, but his form becoming more solid as the minutes passed.  
  
"You're....a ghost?"  
  
"Now don't start screaming or nothing, don't want those rapscallions finding me here."  
  
Wendy found herself more bemused than scared, the man's face appearing from the gloom to reveal itself as someone in their middle years, the eyes dark but not frightening, more sad than anything else.  
  
"But....you're a ghost, how could they hurt you?"  
  
"As I said before, the God's are mighty fickle with a body....one minute you're a spirit, the next you're a frog in a pond. I prefer this form to the other, if you don't mind."  
  
Thinking that she must be hullucinating from lack of food, Wendy could only nod in agreement, her fingers clutching her blanket more firmly about her shoulders. The ghost had now finished his transformation and stood before her, still very see-through, but with more substance about his face and hands.  
  
"Who are...er...were you?"  
  
"George Treading, late of the HMS Circe, first lieutenant for one Captain Gardener, and you are?"  
  
"Oh.....Wendy....Wendy Darling...well, I suppose more properly I should call myself Wendy Pan..."  
  
"You don't know your true name?"  
  
"No, you see.....I only recently came back to Neverland, and nothings been formalised, but its accepted, I guess, that Peter and I....." Wendy felt herself blush as George canted his head to one side and gave her a considering look.  
  
"And where is this Peter you speak about?"  
  
"I don't know.....he went off to find someone called Skinner, I think....he left me with the Indian's and some men came and kidnapped me...I don't know how long ago, and there was a little girl with me, and I don't know if she's alive or dead.....and I don't know where I am, or who attacked me.....or....or...." Flailing her hands helplessly, Wendy burst into noisy sobs, overcome with her situation. George looked on impassively, his arms crossed over his chest while he waited for her to get herself under control. Using her blanket, Wendy wiped her eyes and sniffed, feeling a little better for crying out her fears. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so emotional....its just....its just..."  
  
"Been a rough day, miss.....nothing wrong with saying it."  
  
Wendy raised a wan smile, "Yes, it has been a rough night and day. I have no idea how long I've been kidnapped for, it was night when Fly and I sat on the knoll. I awoke the first time in sunlight, but I don't know what time of the day it was.....then I must have fainted, the next time I awoke we were in some sort of tunnel and it was dark again, but I don't know if it was day or night....do you?"  
  
"No....sorry....haven't been to the surface in more years than I care to count....not even sure exactly where I am, to tell the truth."  
  
"Oh....I thought.....if you're a ghost...then surely you're in the place where you died?"  
  
"No..no..if that was the case, I'd be walking around the bottom of the ocean. The ship was lost, foundered off the coast of some island in the middle of nowhere. I was drowned before I could reach the beach, couldn't swim ya see."  
  
"How dreadful for you.....but I suppose the island could have been Neverland, but why are you here, in these caves?"  
  
"That I don't know...after I...er...died, I don't remember what happened, only that one day I was here....a ghost, left to haunt a pirate hideout in the middle of a mountain. Daft, if you ask me."  
  
"Do you appear to the pirates?"  
  
"No...waste of time, they'd just yell and swipe at me with their swords. Its' more interesting to stay out of sight and listen."  
  
A mischievous grin suddenly appeared on George's face and Wendy felt her own lips twitch in reply. When she'd first seen the ghosts face, she had supposed him to be in his middle years, possibly older, but when he smiled he seemed younger, almost boyish.  
  
"How old were you when you..died?"  
  
"Not old at all, about twenty-five. It was my first posting on a ship of the line."  
  
"So young..." Wendy whispered, grieving silently for the lost life.  
  
"I guess I was lucky....I didn't leave a wife and family behind, only my old dad....and now I'm here, although why is anyone's guess."  
  
"How long have you been here, in these caves?"  
  
"Not very long, but it's hard to judge. Sometimes I think it's only been days, but then I look at the faces of the men here and realize that they have aged, so it must be years."  
  
"I think that is so sad....."  
  
Suddenly George moved, leaving his spot beside the wall to walk towards Wendy, his feet moving but not touching the dirt floor. As he approached Wendy couldn't help her natural reactions and shrank back against the rock behind her.  
  
Seeing her reaction, George stopped and held out his hand. To Wendy it looked almost solid, her eyes darting from his hand to his face, the smile back on his lips as he waited for her to calm again.  
  
Drawing in a breath, Wendy tentatively extended her hand until her fingers were only an inch away from the ghost's. Her eyes were enormous in her pale face and her fingers trembled slightly. Still smiling, George bridged the small gap and his hand closed around hers. To her surprise she could feel his fingers, the palm of his hand. It felt cold and strange, but she could really feel him. George appeared just as surprised, his eyes dropping to their hands, his fingers curled around her small hand, his flesh becoming less corporeal the longer he held her.  
  
"I can feel your hand.....is this supposed to happen?" Wendy asked, her own starting to tremble again.  
  
"I don't know.....I've never tried to touch anyone before....at least, not try and really touch them. I didn't know I could."  
  
It was very odd to Wendy. She could feel his hand holding hers, no longer cold but just warm and very solid, but if she raised her eyes, she could see through his body to the candle still flickering on the opposite wall. Suddenly nervous, Wendy pulled back and George let go of her, his hand reverting to its ghostly transparency as soon as he no longer touched her.  
  
"That was interesting......" George held up his hand and stared at it, as if willing it to be solid again. Wendy tucked hers into her blanket, a little unnerved by the whole experience.  
  
George backed away from where Wendy sat, his eyes still contemplating his hand, until he hit the wall. Instead of stopping, in front of Wendy's incredulous eyes, George entered the wall and started to go through it until only his face, hand and one foot were still visible.  
  
Wendy's gasp drew his attention and he looked over at her, seeing her round eyes and open mouth. Looking down at himself he saw the reason and quickly stepped back into the room, grinning sheepishly.  
  
"Sorry, I forget sometimes....walls don't exist for me anymore."  
  
Feeling thirsty again, Wendy lifted the earthenware jug and took another mouthful, the cool liquid sliding down her throat and filling her stomach. Putting the jug down she looked at the other contents of the tray, a plain heel of brown bread on a metal plate. Picking it up, she nibbled at the crust, her appetite returning almost painfully so that she had to restrain herself from stuffing the whole piece in her mouth and probably choking herself. George just watched, his arms once more folded over his chest as he waited for her to finish her Spartan meal.  
  
With her final swallow, George cleared his throat, drawing her eyes to him.  
  
"Would I be right in thinkin' you'll be wanting to get out of this place?"  
  
"Wouldn't you?"  
  
He laughed as her acerbic tone, his ghostly figure shaking with mirth.  
  
"I see your point. I may have to leave you for a little bit, but don't despair, I'm just going to make a reconnoitre."  
  
"Are you truly going to help me?"  
  
"As far as my somewhat limited powers will allow.....don't go anywhere now!"  
  
With a wag of his transparent finger, former first-lietenent of HMS Circe passed through the rock wall and out of Wendy's sight. Bemused she stared at the spot for a long minute before shaking her head and turning her attention to the stout door that blocked the entrance. The candle was starting to gutter behind her as she thumped her fist on the wood, the sound hollow and depressing. There was no door handle on her side and when she pushed the door is only gave a little before standing firm. Frustrated, Wendy kicked the door with her bare foot before returning to sit beside the tray, her blanket still firmly wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
Her eyes were drawn inevitably to the small candle bravely shedding its light around her room. It was nearly burnt to the base, only another hour of life in it. She tried not to think what would happen when it finally went out.  
  
"Peter where are you?.....why haven't you come to take me home?...." Staring at the candle, she whispered her words into the chill air of the room, a lump in her throat making her swallow hard. After a moment or two, she buried her head against her arms, her knees drawn up as she huddled against the wall.  
  
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Peter flew low over the forest, looking for the tree that was the center of the fairy world. He frowned in annoyance when he couldn't spot the ancient oak right away. Circling over where he knew it should be, he flew down and landed between the towering trees, the tall ferns crowding close as if to capture him. Briefly he remembered the evening he'd brought Wendy to the glade, how eager he'd been to show her the fairy's and how sweetly she'd smiled her thanks as they gazed down into the hollow tree. Now he gazed around that self-same glade and couldn't see the tree anywhere. Pushing his way through the bracken he rounded a wide trunk and gasped. Where the tree had been there was only a tagged stump, its shards of wood pointing to the sky in mute protest, the white heartwood very bright against the dark of the forest greenery. Where once the tree had climbed to the sky, now only a severed, torn stump remained, sticking a foot above the tallest fern, the rest of the tree completely missing. Stepping forward slowly, Peter stared in shock at the carnage wrought on the fairy tree, his eyes raking the ground for evidence of what, or who had caused the catastrophe. As he approached he saw that the ground was scuffed with many booted footprints, the plants crushed and ripped from the ground, close to the tree's base. Here and there were flattened branches, ripped from the main trunk, some with cleanly cut ends where a sword or axe had cut them from the tree. In the center of the wreckage stood all that remained of the once magnificent tree, the splintered fingers of wood pointing jaggedly upwards, the hollow center a black hole leading down to the roots. He found the remains of the knothole that he and Wendy had watched the fairies through, it was scratched and cut, as if someone had tried to hack their way in through the opening. Inside all was dark, no sign that the tree had ever been ablaze with golden fairy light, its roots strung with fireflies and glow-worms, giving the appearance of a golden treasure chest. Now it was just a dark hole, chips of wood and sawdust on the dirt floor that had been the fairy's dance floor.  
  
"Who has done this awful thing? Who?"  
  
Not expecting an answer, Peter started in surprise when a voice sounded close to his ear, his head snapping around to find a small swarm of bright lights hovering just above the heads of the ferns behind him.  
  
One of the lights detached from the others and flew close to Peter's face. The fairy was very small, only a juvenile, but Peter noticed that all the fairies hovering were not much bigger, all of them very young.  
  
The tiny fairy hovered, her wings beating rapidly, just beyond Peter's's nose, her head on one side, as if measuring his worth. Peter held his breath, his heart beating slowly as he waited for the tiny creature to speak. His patience was rewarded when a tinkle of bells sounded when the creature opened its mouth.  
  
"Who are you that comes to gloat over our ruined home?"  
  
"I don't come to gloat-I am Peter Pan."  
  
The small floating cloud of fairies instantly burst into a noisy chatter, the one in front of Peter registering surprise on her tiny face.  
  
"We have heard of you....but this is the first time we've seen the one called Peter Pan....where have you been all this time?"  
  
For a moment Peter was nonplussed. He hadn't realized that he'd been out of touch with the fairies so long. These were newly hatched, admittedly, but to have become such a stranger to his friends that they thought he had been hiding, it was a blow to Peter.  
  
"I haven't been anywhere....I've just been....busy for awhile. How is the Queen?"  
  
The tiny fairies exchanged a glance between each other and Peter's heart lurched, was he too late?  
  
"The Queen is better.....she was unwell for a long time, and these latest attacks on our people has made her sick. But we have a new home, and for now we are safe."  
  
"Can you take me to the Queen? I would very much like to see her again."  
  
At his request the fairies fluttered about his head, only the smallest remaining in front of his face.  
  
"You cannot see the Queen.....we do not know you.......how do we know you are the Pan, and not another pirate come to harm us?"  
  
"Did pirates do this?" Peter waved his arm to indicate the blasted remains of the old oak.  
  
"Yes they did........it was before our time, but we have heard the story. It was a dark time for our Queen. She barely escaped with her life, and most of the swarm were decimated or captured."  
  
"Please....I must see the Queen. Can you take a message to her?"  
  
The tiny creature nodded, her friends gathered behind her in a tight, wary flock of bright lights and gossamer wings.  
  
"We will do that-you are not like the others, they shouted the words and made our swarm fall and die, you haven't said the words."  
  
In dawning horror Peter's stared open mouthed at the fairies. "The words?"  
  
"The men that came before, they shouted the words that all fairies fear and one by one our people started to fall, after a few minutes half had died, it was a terrible sight, so we've been told. The Queen gathered those that remained and flew with them as fast and as far as she could, out of the hearing of those bad men and their killing words."  
  
"I didn't know...." Peter whispered, heartsick that he'd been so ignorant of events in his own world.  
  
"We have been taught that one day a champion would appear to set right the wrongs done to our kind.....are you that champion?"  
  
Swallowing hard, Peter raised his eyes to the tiny lights that watched him warily. "I will be your champion...I will find the men that did this and kill them!"  
  
At his fierce avowal the fairies twittered and fluttered around him, showering him with their dust until he glowed with gilded frosting.  
  
"We will go now and tell the Queen what we have seen and heard. We will ask her is she will see you. Be here when the sun sets and you will have your answer."  
  
Not waiting for Peter to respond, the tiny sparks of light shot up into the air and flew rapidly away, their trails dropping to the earth like golden rain. Peter watched them go with a faint feeling of hope.  
  
Turning away, he walked back along the trail leading away from the blasted tree, his footsteps heavy as he contemplated all that he'd found out in the short time since he'd returned to the Indian village to find Wendy gone.  
  
Needing somewhere to sit and think, he rose into the air and wove between the tree trunks until he reached his old tree, now too small and derelict to be used as a home. He tugged on the vine that opened the door, the bark lifting reluctantly to reveal its secret passage. Peering into the dark Peter sniffed, smelling the scent of decay and disuse. Letting the bark doorway drop back into place, he sat down cross legged on the mossy ground and leant his head back against his old hideout.  
  
So much had happened in the few short hours since he and Wendy had swum in the rock gorge. So much had been revealed to him that he felt dizzy from all the thoughts and feelings raging through him.  
  
Topmost was his fear that Hook or his henchmen were hurting his Wendy. He would never have left her if he'd known the extent of the changes that had been wrought in his world without him noticing. He tried to think back but the last few years had been so overwhelming with his new found body and burgeoning emotions that he couldn't remember anything happening out of the ordinary. He certainly would have remembered if anyone had told him that Hook was back, alive and apparently still plotting Peter's downfall, but no-one had even mentioned Hook's name, let alone his whereabouts. Peter tried to think back to his times spent with the former pirates of the Jolly Roger. Not once could he recall Smee mentioning his old Captain, nor could he recall the last time he'd spoken to the Fairy Queen. Why had no one told him what was happening? Were they all afraid of him? Or maybe more afraid of Hook? Now, into this state of chaos, he'd brought Wendy, exposing her to terrible danger at the hands of Peter's worst enemy. Peter ground his teeth again at the thought of Wendy in Hook's power, his hands clenching around the hilt of his dagger as if to plunge it into his enemy's black heart. And why had no-one told him about the fairy tree? That was the hardest to bear. He had loved Tinkerbell and she him, it had been a terrible blow when she'd died, his heart and mind missing her whenever he visited any of his old haunts, her tinkling laugh and mischievous pranks remembered with great affection and grief at her loss. It was after her death that he started to shy away from the fairies and their business, but surely the Mermaid's would have known what was happening, they should have told him what had been going on.  
  
But now he knew, and Neverland was paying the price for his neglect. Hook had returned from the dead and was wreaking havoc in Peter's world once more, destroying and stealing worse than he'd ever done before the arrival of the Darling children. It was up to Peter to set things right again, it was his task, and his alone to rid Neverland of Hook and his accomplices once and for all. He knew from the Indian's that what few sighting of Hook they had made, had all been within the vicinity of the old smoke cabin, down below the bluff. He would start there and track the villain to his lair. There he would be sure to find Wendy, and his duty to protect Neverland from the likes of Hook would be fulfilled.  
  
Satisfied that his course was clear, Peter rose to his feet and flew into the air. The sun was starting to sink below the tree tops and if the Queen was to grant him an audience he would have to return to the tree and wait until sunset. Hopefully what he learned from her would cement what he'd already found out from the Mermaids and the Indians, then armed he would set out to rescue Wendy and revenge the wrongs committed against Neverland and it's protector, Peter Pan.  
  
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I can see the threads weaving together, nearly time for another actor to enter stage-left, doncha think? Will try to hurry up with the next chapter, in the meantime.......have atcha puling spawn!! grin 


	9. Not So Dead Afterall

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Nine - Not So Dead Afterall.

Rating: PG

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Author's Note: A HUGE thank you to all those that have been so enthusiastic with their praise for this story. I know its been a long time between updates (I've been penning another story,"Asking to be Panned") but I hope to remedy that. You have all asked me to keep going on this story, and I fully intend to complete it, your kind encouragement it certainly a wonderful incentive to keep going. Enjoy.  
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Wendy shivered then stiffened, her ears picking up the unmistakable sound of boots striking rock. With her back firmly against the wall, she inched herself upright, unwilling to cower before her captors, despite the trembling in legs barely able to keep her upright. The rattle of a key in the lock was all the warning she got before the door swung open, light flooding the small room as several men entered carrying lanterns. Wendy shielded her eyes, squinting to see who they were. Hand's grasped her arm and started to propel her out of the door and along the corridor outside.

"Where...where are you taking me....please, where are we going?"

As her eyes accustomed themselves to the lantern's glow she saw another man pacing beside her, a quick glance over her shoulder confirming another following closely behind. None of the men spoke, their grim expressions not encouraging conversation. Clutching her thin blanket around her, Wendy gritted her teeth and concentrated on keeping on her feet as the men hustled her without preamble down the dark passage. She could see lights ahead, the passage opening out into a large cavern, the ceiling so high she could barely make it out. The floor was made up of a series of ledges, similar to an amphitheater, the various levels scattered with tall stalagmites, rising up in a vain attempt to join with their brothers hanging far above their heads. All around the wide cave blazing torches illuminated the shadows while casting grotesque shadows over the rock formations as men passed in front of them. Boxes, barrels and other detritus of human occupations were lumped and heaped around the floor, adding to the hazards of passage towards the other side of the cavern. The men surrounding Wendy ferried their captive despite the melee, steering her a course through the maze, leaving her free to observe the men now standing around and staring at her as she passed. They were men from many different countries, their clothes proclaiming them pirates and vagabonds, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to outright leers, but always silent, no catcalls or jeers as she passed by. She counted less than thirty pirates in all, barely enough to crew a ship of any size, and certainly not an army. As they traversed the cavern a chant started from somewhere behind her, the voices mere whispers but growing in volume as she progressed closer to the far wall where she could see a rocky outcrop had formed a raised platform, on which stood an ornately carved chair. The chant grew louder, the single word now clear to her horrified ears.

"Hook.....Hook......Hook.....Hook.....HOOK......HOOK......HOOK!!"

The crowd of pirates were forming into ranks behind her as her guard approached the platform with its barbaric throne. Suddenly she was jerked to a halt, the man holding her arm dropping his grip, Wendy rubbing her arm to return its circulation as she stared wildly around. Her head was pounding as the men shouted louder and louder, thumping on the rock floor with their booted feet and any other object they could use. Of the man they called for, there was no sign and Wendy was almost ready to clap her hands over her ears as the shouts became a roar, echoes magnifying the sound until she felt her insides quiver. Just as she thought she would pass out, the voices stopped, the cave ringing with the echoes for several seconds before dying away completely.

In the silence Wendy heard booted feet approaching, her head tilting to stare up at the throne perched above where she stood. Her brow furrowed as she noted that the footsteps were uneven, as if the owner walked uncertainly, or possibly limped.

Out of a side passageway appeared the owner of the boots, his reason for an uneven pace clearly evident as he approached. Wendy gasped, her hands fluttering up to her throat as she stared at the man who had struck such terror and, if she dared to admit it, such fascination for her as a green girl, innocent of the ways of men. The man that carefully seated himself on the ornately carved throne was nothing like the immaculate dandy that had terrorized Neverland so many years ago. In his place was a man who had suffered horrifically, who carried scars that warped and twisted the once handsome features into a caricature that defied nature. Only the eyes were the same, still forget-me-not blue and as cold as ice, sweeping over the company assembled below him, his remains of a mouth curling into a sneer as he raised his hand to acknowledge his men's acclaim. His once black ringlets were now silver, no hint of their former jet, only the length remaining the same. On his right hand his hook gleamed as brightly as ever, peeking almost coyly out of the froth of lace that spilled over what would have been his wrist. Despite losing his looks, Hook had obviously not lost his love of the theatrical, his clothes as opulently embroidered as ever, his velvet coat and breeches as finely made as any court clothes. On his sound hand every finger carried a ring, each vying for the prize of most gaudiest, flashing and sparkling in the light of the two flambeau that flanked the throne. Long, black leather sea boots completed his ensemble, encasing his legs to above the knee and mirror polished.

Her shock at his altered appearance waning, Wendy noticed the other man standing behind Captain Hook's chair, his dark eyes staring at her out of his saturnine face. He was dressed almost as finely as Hook, but all in black, unrelieved by any decoration, even his linen being of black silk. With his dark hair and eyes he looked like a predatory bird and Wendy shivered.

"Bring the wench forward.....let's see what manner of creature is going to bring the Pan so easily into our grasp."

Hook's voice rang out, his men grabbing Wendy by both arms and dragging her forward, her blanket-shawl dropping unnoticed to the ground. Wendy struggled but managed only to wrench her shoulder, the men unyielding as they threw her to the floor at Hook's feet before retiring to stand ready for his next order.

Hook rested his elbow on his knee and leant forward, regarding his disheveled captive with a crooked smile on his ruined lips.

"Wendy........Darling....my how the years have changed you. I said you were a beauty when I had you aboard my ship all those years ago, and you have grown into a beauty indeed....wouldn't you agree Skinner?"

"A rare beauty, as you say Captain."

"Did you ever imagine you would be returning to Neverland my dear? Or did you think that Peter had forgotten his Wendy? I can assure you that Hook never forgot....."

Wendy shakily rose to her feet, unwilling to remain on her knees before the Pirate Captain, her hands pushing her hair off her face as she raised her head and stared back at Hook.

"You had better let me go.......Peter will be coming for me soon."

A muffled sound of laughter greeted her words, quickly stifled when Hook waved for silence. Leaning back in his chair, James Hook grinned at her.

"I sincerely hope that he will do exactly that, m'dear. I hate to think all your suffering had been in vain. As for him coming to get you soon, you must be confused....it has already been a day and a night since my men took you from the Indian village......Peter is not exactly rushing to your rescue....or so it would seem."

Again laughter rippled around the cavern, Wendy licking her dry lips as fear snaked down her spine.

"I'm sure there's a very good reason why Peter is delayed....he's...he's probably raising an army to storm this....this, wherever this is....and.....and....he'll be here, I know he will."

"Oh I'm counting on that Wendy......but as for an army.....who has he to call on?"

Wendy looked nonplussed for a moment, not sure whether Hook was asking her a rhetorical question or was genuinely interested in an answer.

"There are plenty who will aid him."

"Not as many as you seem to think, m'dear.....the Mermaids won't get involved, they fear for their existence and steer clear when any conflict is even hinted at. The fairies are almost extinct..."

"WHAT!! You can't mean that........what's happened to the fairies?"

Hook leant forward again, his face creasing in a feral grin.

"I've all but wiped the flying vermin from the face of Neverland...there'll be no help from what remnants remain."

"Oh no....how could you....." Wendy stared at Hook in horror, remembering the clouds of golden lights that had fluttered around Peter and herself as they danced in the woods, the delicate creatures giving the moment an enchanted magic.

"Very easily....you only have to say a word and they drop down dead. Once their tree was uprooted and destroyed, it was just a matter of saying the words they dread and watching the glowing bugs drop to the earth......stone, cold dead."

"You monster...." Wendy felt her eyes prickle with tears at the loss of so many tiny lives.

Hook saw her blinking to try and clear her eyes, his scarred lips pursing into a moue as he reached out to catch one of the tears, Wendy twisting her head our of his reach.

"No need for tears....the world is well rid of them...nothing but trouble and mischief. Now back to who Peter would call on for help...not the mermaids, not the fairies....why not the old crew of the Jolly Roger?"

Hook gestured to the men assembled below. "What think you mates...would you stand a chance against me old crew mates.....think that any one of you brawny blokes would stand a chance against my old first mate Smee?"

The men exploded into gales of laughter at Hook's sally, shouts of "No!" and "Just let'em try!" telling Wendy that these men would make short work of the sailors that once crewed the Jolly Roger.

Hook sat back once more, well satisfied by their response to his jests.

"So who does that leave.....the Redskins? They are brave and courageous, to be sure, and a lot younger than Smee's men. They might have a fighting chance.....but Wendy....why would they risk their lives to rescue you? You are not one of them.....you do not even belong in Neverland....you are an outsider, a stranger to them....what possible reason could they have to risk life and limb to rescue you?"

Wendy looked at him aghast. He was right, everything he said was right. The Indians wouldn't want to risk their lives for her. She wouldn't want them too either, they had their own families and children to care for. She would hate to think of Little Creeks sons and grandsons dying in an attempt to rescue her.

"No.....no....they have no reason to rescue me.....they mustn't....."

"So you see.....the only person who will try, is Peter himself....alone, with no army, no help....." Hook looked forlorn. "Who will rescue the fair Wendy?"

"No.....I don't want him to risk his life for me....I don't..."

With the speed of a snake, Hook reached out his hand and grasped Wendy's chin, her hands coming up to wrap around his wrist, unable to break the grip he held.

"Oh but I want him too....the brave, foolish, lovesick fool. I want him to try...so that he can fail...spectacularly. And when he does....I will have him as my captive....and what should I do with him then?"

Still holding onto Wendy's face, Hook turned her head so she looked down at the faces staring up at her.

"What say you men....when we have the Pan...what shall we do with him?"

The cavern erupted, the men shouting a variety of gruesome deaths, their ferocity making Wendy feel sick as they graphically illustrated their descriptions with slashing knives and waving swords. Turning her back to face him, Hook dragged Wendy forward, her hands dropping to brace herself on the arms of the chair, her face mere inches from Hook's ravaged countenance.

"I think we'll find many prolonged and agonizing ways to end Peter Pan's life, don't you think? My men have waited a long time to get their hands on the brat, a long time to think up suitable ways to end his days, a quick death the kindest, but least likely to occur."

Wendy felt her senses leaving her, Hook's face blurring and starting to spin as she lost her grip on reality, his fingers slipping from her chin as her eyes rolled up in her head. Wendy fell, Skinner moving quickly to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Take the wench back to her cell.....no wait." Hook tapped his lip as he stared at the limp girl clasped in Skinner arms, Wendy's white face a pale oval against the mans dark clothes. "Take her to your room Skinner......mind, I don't want her harmed.....if Peter does somehow slip through our net and manages to get in here, I want him to find her in a situation that raises doubts as to her loyalty. Make sure she has everything she needs and get her out of that rag. There's a chest in my quarters that has dresses galore. Make sure she looks well cared for, as little like a captive as possible.....Peter will think she's turned traitor and betrayed him....another knife to plunge into his heart before ending his miserable existence."

Skinner's features remained impassive as Hook spoke his thoughts aloud. He almost pitied Peter Pan, his gaze flicking to the pale girl laying limply in his arms before returning to contemplate the madness lurking in Hook's twisted face.

"As you wish Captain." Swinging away, Skinner carried Wendy out of the cavern and down through a series of tunnels until he reached his quarters. Kicking open the door he entered the room and lay the girl on his own bed before turning and lighting the lanterns around the room, bringing welcome light to the gloom. Returning to the bed he stared down at the girl lying limply against the covers. Although his room was not as richly appointed as Hook's, as second in command Skinner had appropriated his share of booty and outfitted his rooms to a comfortably furnished state. The bed had proper sheets and pillows with pillowcases, the chair in the corner was actually upholstered, a mirror hanging above the handsome dressing table holding a china bowl and jug to hold washing water. On the walls hung a rich tapestry plus a bookshelf that held a few precious leather bound manuscripts. In all, it was luxury compared to the basic pallets that the men slept on in the common rooms further down the passageway.

Leaving the room, careful to lock the door behind him, Skinner entered Hook's chambers and found the correct chest. Carrying it back to his room, he set it down and opened it. Inside were several dresses, carefully folded with tissue paper and lavender to ward off the moth. Pulling out the one on top, he shook it out, the light catching the gold embroidery that decorated the bodice. It was a style favored a century ago, the skirts wide and full, the bodice cut low, the half-sleeves ending in a froth of Venetian lace. The colour was a rich blue velvet trimmed with blonde lace, the skirt split to display a cream satin under-skirt, a perfect choice for the young woman laying insensible on his bed.

Staring down at her, Skinner tilted his lips in a wry smile.

"You are lucky that Hook chose me to be your appointed keeper, Wendy girl. Anyone else would have taken rude advantage of your state...as it is...I have little interest.....in women."

With an economy of movement, Skinner divested Wendy of her deerskin dress and ruined moccasins, noting the bruising from her rough handling by his men. Treating her like a rag doll, he quickly dressed her in the blue velvet, eschewing the usual plethora of underclothes, preferring to leave that for her to sort out later. Tossing her Indian clothes into the corner, he rolled Wendy onto her stomach and laced up the back of the dress with fingers apparently well practiced with ladies clothing.

"Just because I don't desire women, doesn't mean I didn't cut my eye-teeth on their bountiful charms..." He muttered to himself, grunting as he rolled her onto her back again, her hair falling over her face like a drift of gold. Brushing it out of her face he noted the dark bruising under her eyes, her lashes like sooty smudges against her cheeks. "It's a shame that fate has chosen to turn her back on you, my beauty....under different circumstances, you could have been a queen..."

Shaking his head to clear it of fancies, Skinner pursed his lips and bent down to gather up the grubby clothes.

"Farewell, sleeping beauty.....pray that Peter is not too tardy in his attempt to regain you....if he takes too long, I fear you will suffer for his delay. Hook will not be patient for much longer."

Turning his back, Skinner opened the door and stepped out into the passageway, locking the door behind him. A man was waiting for him and he saluted Skinner before stepping forward.

"I'm to guard the door."

"As Hook commands Eli....I'll send Malcolm with a tray for her in short order, but don't let him enter alone. She may look like a kitten, but I'll wager she has claws and spirit."

"Aye sir...."

Nodding, Skinner left the man standing outside his door and headed back to the main cavern.

Unseen by either man, George Treading, late of HMS Circe, kept his corporeal self hidden in the shadows, his form barely discernible from the rocks behind him. He had been an invisible witness to the scene in the cavern but had not been quick enough to follow Skinner and became lost in the labyrinth of tunnels and rock, before following the man, Eli and finding himself outside the right room. Having the ability to drift through rock was fine if you knew where you were supposed to be going, but a few degrees off and you ended up in the middle of a mountain and nowhere to rematerialise to get your bearings. It was both frustrating and sometimes scary, even for a ghost.

Now he knew where he was and where Wendy was, which was more to the point. As Skinner brushed past him, the living man shivered, as if feeling George's ghostly presence, before passing by without a backward glance. George drifted further down the corridor before passing through the rock into the room beyond. Seeing Wendy sprawled on the bed, he drew in an airless breath before moving closer to peer into her face.

"Wendy?"

Feeling emboldened, George concentrated and his ghostly outline solidified, revealing the young man he'd been. With his newly formed hand he reached down to touch Wendy's cheek, the chill of his fingers bringing her around as quickly as smelling salts. Her lashes fluttered and he found himself gazing down into her ocean blue eyes, confusion painting them a darker hue until she recognized his features.

"George? I thought you'd left me....."

"I'm sorry....."

She blinked up at him, her eyes sliding away to look at the room she was in, her hands reaching down to touch the velvet of the dress now covering her body.

"What's happened......where am I......what am I wearing?" Panic was starting to colour her voice, Wendy twisting her neck to stare at the walls surrounding the bed, her fingers plucking at fabric of the dress. George tried to still her hand but she jerk away from his cold touch, scooting backwards until she hit the back of the bed, her legs folding under her.

"Who dressed me? I don't remember.....the men were yelling, saying horrible things...describing how they were.....were going to....oh God, how they were going to kill Peter..."

"I know....I was there....I'm sorry...."

"What am I going to do?...I have to escape....stop Peter from finding this place."

Wendy started searching the room, looking past George, her eyes filling with tears that spilt, unheeded, down her cheeks. "I have to get out of here...." She stared wild-eyed at George, her fingers reaching out to grasp at him, her hand passing right through his chest. "You have to help me...get me away from here."

"I will help you Wendy....please, you have to calm yourself.....please."

Her breath hitching in her chest, Wendy tried to still her thumping heart, the echoes of the men's jeers still ringing in her head.

"They'll kill him is he comes here for me....I couldn't bear it if he died because of me....I couldn't bear it...."

"Wendy.....there's a man guarding the door, I'll try and scare him away, if you can..." He broke off when a knock sounded at the door, making them both jump.

Wendy swallowed hard. "Who is it?" She called out.

"I've a tray for you miss....orders of Skinner."

"Just a moment," Wendy replied, casting a look towards her ghostly companion who was already vanishing before her eyes. With George once more invisible, Wendy sucked in a breath to steady herself before calling out again.

"Come in..."

She heard the key turn in the lock and watched the thick door open, one man holding it ajar while another younger man stepped into the room holding a loaded tray. He set it down on the dressing table, casting sideways looks at Wendy crouched on the bed.

"I'll be back for it later....hope it to your liking?"

Before Wendy could form a reply the older man cuffed the younger and pulled him towards the door.

"Get off with ya Malcolm....don't dawdle."

The two men left, the key turning loudly in the lock behind them.

George quickly reappeared, approaching the bed and sitting on its side.

"I'll wait for the corridor to be clear before I try anything.....I should be able to pass the key under the door. I can't unlock it from the outside, I don't have the solidity for that...but I can pull it out and push it under."

"I'll be ready....do you know your way to the surface from here?"

"I won't lie to you Wendy....I don't know my way around these tunnels all that well....I got lost just getting here."

Wendy bit her lip, her brief burst of confidence fading, then she tilted her chin. "Do what you can George....if we don't get out, at least we can draw the pirates attention, distract them from keeping an eye out for Peter....its not much, but its something."

Wiping away the traces of her tears with the heel of her hand, Wendy climbed off the bed and stood resolute, her hands smoothing her skirts in an effort to calm herself. George also stood, admiration for her courage shining from his eyes.

"You're a brave lass.....I'll have to wait and pick my time, but I'm sure it won't take long to scare the pants off the guard. For all their brash and bravado, they're a superstitious pack of animals. Watch for the key."

"I'll be waiting George...good luck."

Giving her a wink, George faded into the ether, leaving Wendy alone in the room.

Wendy had no way of noting how much time passed before she heard a muffled scream from beyond her prison. Within seconds she saw a metal key being pushed under the door. Snatching it up she fitted it in the lock and twisted the key. It moved smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal an empty corridor, the torches still burning brightly along its length.

"George?" Wendy whispered, closing the door behind her and locking it. She felt a cold draught and George appeared behind her.

"This way lass....but hurry, I've checked around the corner and the way is clear, for now."

"Lead the way...I'll be right behind you."

Gathering up her skirts, Wendy kept close to the rock wall, following her companions barely discernible outline along the passageway.

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TBC.....soon, I promise.


	10. Fly follows and Peter prepares

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Ten - Fly follows and Peter prepares.  
Rating: PG

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Fly crouched in a small niche, hidden in the shadows. She had followed the bad men that stole her and Wendy away from the Indian camp until they stopped and put Wendy in the old smoke cabin, the men setting up a fire, obviously waiting for someone else to join them. Tired out from her tramp through the night, Fly curled up under a thick bush and rested her head on her arms, within seconds she was asleep.

Voices woke her, raising her head she saw another man had joined the two by the fire. They were arguing but she wasn't close enough to make out the words. As she watched one of the men entered the hut and emerged with Wendy slung over his shoulder. Him and the tall man started to walk away, the other man kicking out the fire before following. Fly waited a few seconds then set off after them. She was scared but determined not to lose sight of her new friend. Before too long the men had lead her to a maze of rocks below the towering bluff. Fly kept glancing up at the brooding rocks, imagining them to be evil spirits just waiting to fall down and crush her. Trembling, Fly crouched down and watched the men disappear behind a large rock. She waited but they didn't reemerge, so she crept forward. Behind the rock was a narrow entrance to a hidden cave. Fly paused, wiping her sweaty hands on her dress. It looked dark inside and Fly had nothing to light her way. She thought about turning back, of running back to her village, but that was many hours away and she didn't want to face Peter with the news that Wendy had been taken into the depths of the mountain with Fly too scared to follow. She edged closer to the opening and peered inside. There was nothing to see but a deep and consuming darkness, daylight barely reaching beyond the narrow archway. As she stared into the blackness, she saw a flickering light someway in. Swallowing hard, she screwed up her courage and, with one hand on the wall of the tunnel, she stepped into the darkness, her eyes firmly pinned on the wavering flames so far ahead of her.

Many times she faltered, her hand never leaving the dark rock wall that was her only comfort. Her eyes had quickly become accustomed to the gloomy conditions, a faint glow from florescent fungi growing on the damp rock faces keeping her company as she trod the dusty passageway further and further into the mountain. Every now and then she saw a flicker of yellow light far ahead of her, then it would disappear and she'd know a corner was somewhere in front of her. After several fraught hours she had to stop, too tired, hungry and thirsty to continue. As she lay slumped on the ground she stared up and saw a multitude of glittering lights far above her. Glow worms formed a sparkling night sky inside the tunnel, further adding to the meager light surrounding the little girl. Fly saw something glimmer on the wall a little further along, curious she went to investigate and found a tiny spring, the water running down the rock face to puddle on the floor before disappearing into a crack. Cupping her hands she scooped up the water and sipped. It was sweet and cold, as heady a honey wine and Fly sucked at it greedily, filling her stomach, splashing some on her dusty face as well. After that she felt renewed and ready to continue. With the glowing patches on the walls and the glow-worms above, Fly made-believe she was walking through an enchanted fairy cave, distracting her from the thought of the pirates up ahead.

Eventually her tired legs could carry her no further and Fly curled up on the hard floor, asleep as soon as she pillowed her head on her arm.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Peter waited impatiently for the Queen to appear. He chafed at having to wait to have his audience with her. The Indians were already out, had been since sun-up, scouring the forest and shoreline for any sign of the little girl Fly and his Wendy. Peter wanted to be with them, but knew he had to find out what he could from the Fairy Queen before setting off on his own quest to rescue Wendy as well as end Hook's hold on Neverland forever.

He was back in the fairy glade not far from the blasted oak, the sun disappearing behind the trees painting the sky in pinks and orange. He was armed and ready to go, two swords strapped to his back, his rapier in the scabbard on his hip, his stiletto blade sheathed on his other side, another knife in his boot, a quiver of short arrows secured to one forearm, the crossbow to use them hanging from his waist. The final piece of his personal armory was the brace of pistols tucked in holsters inside his leather vest, already primed and loaded. Peter shifted, feeing the weight of time passing, his mind uneasily avoiding thinking about what could be happening to his Wendy while he kicked his heels in the forest.  
He was about to leave, the sun having sunk below the horizon, the sky turning black, when he heard the faintest chiming of fairy bells.

It was dark now beneath the trees, the shadows deep enough to hide whole armies of pirates. Between the trees he saw lights starting to thread their way, darting behind branches, hiding for a few seconds before flying forward again to hide behind another. At first there were only a handful of lights, the advance guard he surmised. They came close enough to circle his head several feet above him. Satisfied that he was alone, they formed a pattern in the air, a signal to those still hidden. At once the trees all around Peter were illuminated with pinpoints of light, the remnants of the fairy population gathered together to witness the meeting between their beleagued Queen and The Pan.

Peter stood quietly, relaxed and non-threatening as the fairy throng approached. A cluster of many fairies approached him, at their center hung a spider web and at the center of that sat the Fairy Queen. They carefully set her down on a mossy mound, still fluttering around her, her guard circling above. Peter knelt down before laying on his stomach to bring his face close to her. Light bathed his features as what remained of the Fairy Court arranged the Queen to their satisfaction. At last they stood aside, all of them turning to stare up at Peter.

The Fairy Queen raised her hand and spoke."Welcome, Peter Pan, to what is left of our home.....it has been too long since we saw you."

"Majesty.....I am sorry for what has happened here, for what took place without my knowledge....I....I...."

"We know you would have done all that you could if you had known...we do not blame you Peter.....we understand."

"You are more than generous Majesty.....I plan to find the men that did this a make sure they never have the chance to commit such carnage again."

"A bold statement, Peter Pan. You are but one....how can you defeat the forces of the dark alone?"

"I'm hoping to have help from the Indians, one of their children was kidnapped along with my Wendy."

"Kidnapped? Who has done this?"

"I believe the same men who destroyed your home Majesty...they are led by Hook, back from the dead and a man called Skinner."

Peter saw several of the courtiers exchange looks, a whisper running through the fairies gathered around the Queen. The Queen raised her hand again and the whispering ceased.

"Peter......there is something you should know about Hook and his men. Hook is not back from the dead.....he is still dead."

"Your pardon Majesty...I don't understand....what are you saying?"

"Hook died within the belly of the crocodile......it is not his earthly form that you ready yourself to do battle with. None of the men that make up his henchmen are from the land of the living."

"Dead?"

"Dead. They have no particular magic, that we know of, just a will to do irreparable damage to you and to Neverland in reparation for what they consider their untimely ends."

"If what you say is true, Majesty, how am I to find and fight this army of dead pirates?"

"Finding them is easy......they are holed up in the heart of the mountain, in the caverns and tunnels that riddle its center. As for fighting them......you can do nothing while they hide in their rock fortress....you must lure them out of there....preferably at night when the moon is full."

"Why then?"

"Once exposed to the moonlight you will have them at their weakest, then you can strike them down and they will not rise again."

"I understand......"

"Remember Peter.....while they are within the rock they are as strong as living men, you must draw them into the moonlight to have any hope of defeating them."

Peter chewed over all he'd heard, his eyes staring off into the distance while the fairy throng muttered amongst themselves, their lights flitting between the trees. Turning his head, Peter once more regarded the Queen.

"What if I fail....what if I'm killed?"

"Then Neverland will start to destroy itself, and everything within its shores....you are what keeps Neverland alive Peter.....not the fairies, or the mermaids or even the pirates.....you are what the island needs to survive."

"What of Wendy? If I don't succeed and Neverland succumbs....what of her?"

"She is not of this world Peter......if fate decides that Neverland is to be no more then she will be sent back from whence she came. Assuming that she is still alive when the end comes."

"Then I must defeat them.....and keep my head on my shoulders. Thank you Majesty for all your help....I am only sorry I couldn't have helped you when you needed me to."

"We will recover Peter....but only if you win this battle. If you lose and are not killed, Hook and his legion will scour this island of all its magic, they will destroy its forests and poison the water, there will be no hope for Neverland and its denizens if you fail. You will have to leave here.....forever." The Queen suddenly rose from her moss couch and flew up to Peter's face.

"We ask a lot of you Peter Pan.....you are but one against the evil that threatens us all....I would give you some gifts to aid you in this fight." She gestured to one of her courtiers who produced a slender wand, its point trailing fairy dust as he handed it to her.

Peter looked on as the Queen wove an intricate pattern in the air. Peter sat up and back on his heels, watching intently as the fairy dust coalesced into various shapes in the air.

"Take hold of this fairy sword Peter....it will protect the wielder of the blade against any other, whether it be cutlass or dagger. It will never break or shatter and can never been turned against its rightful owner."

Peter reached out and grasped the ornately carved hilt of the sword that appeared in the air, the blade almost glowing. As it touched the calloused palm of his hand, he felt a burning heat for an instant before it cooled, the handle fitting perfectly to his grip. The Queen was once more weaving her patterns in the air, the fairies swirling above his head in a wild dance, echoing her movements.

"This bottle holds the Tears of the Moon. Let one drop fall to the earth and the light from the full moon will shine brightly for the time it takes to draw a three breaths. Let two drops soak into a piece of cloth and while the cloth is damp the light of the full moon will shine and show you the way. Let a drop touch your skin and you will become invisible to all eyes until the drop dries like a tear."

Peter closed his fingers around the softly glowing bottle, its delicate shape as fragile as a dandelion seed, the liquid inside swirling like mist. After a few seconds the glow faded and he tucked it into his shirt where it sat against his skin.

"One last thing Peter......a bag of fairy dust. It will enable any that follow you to fly as you do."

Peter tied the soft cloth bag to his belt.

Clambering to his feet he stood as the swarm of fairies rose up into the air around him, the Queen once more within the safety of the spider's web and surrounded by her surviving court.

"Good luck Peter Pan.....the fate of Neverland and your own future rests in the strength of your arm and the courage in your heart. I will send my personal guard with you to guide you, and any that follow you, to the caves that hide Hook and his cohorts. They will stay and report back to me your success or your failure. Farewell Peter."

Raising his hand in an answering salute, Peter watched the Fairy Queen borne away through the trees, leaving behind a handful of her guard who bobbed in the air around his head. When the last of the fairy throng had vanished from sight, Peter held out his hand and one of the remaining fairy guards alighted.

"We'll return to the Indian village before we go hunting Hook."

"As you command Pan.....we are bound by the Queen's order to serve you until the end."

Checking that everything was still secured about his person, Peter launched himself into the air, the fairy guards taking up positions around him as they sped over the tree tops to the Indian village.

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TBC........Merry Christmas to One and All....... 333


	11. Tangled Threads

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Eleven -Tangled Threads

Rating: PG13

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Author's Note: As you may be aware, I'm working full time now, night shift 40 hours a week, means my writing time is very limited to my days off. Thanks to all who continue to review and enjoy this story, you are the best.

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Peter's arrival at the Indian encampment interrupted a meeting of the elders in the Chief's tent. A party of braves were shouting and waving weapons, all members of Little Creek's family, her son's and grandsons eager to march on the mountain and rescue Fly from the clutches of the pirates. The elders were counseling caution, having no knowledge of the forces the braves would be up against, while Little Creek's family argued for urgency, that the longer they waited the more likely Fly's life would be in mortal danger. Into this heated debate flew Peter Pan, his arrival silencing the combatants for the moment as he stood in the firelight, his expression grim, the fairy sword at his hip drawing curious eyes as it appeared to glow in the flickering light.

Little Creek rose to her feet.

"Welcome back Peter Pan...how goes your search for your woman?"

"I know where she is and the nature of the men who hold her and your granddaughter."

"We know who has her......Hook!"

Peter turned to address the brave. "You are right, it is Hook...but not the mortal man that we knew....Hook is dead, as we always thought."

"You talk in riddles....what do you mean, Hook is dead?...You say that Hook has our Most Precious Butterfly, then you say he's not alive...you are mad!" Little Creek shushed her son-in-law, the father of fly.

"Be quiet....we must hear what Peter has to say."

"Hook has my Wendy and your daughter....but he is not alive, he cannot be killed...he is already dead, as are the men who follow him, who hide in the heart of the mountain."

Muttering broke out among the Indians, many casting furtive glances at the Medicine Man sitting quietly in the corner, observing but not participating.

"How can this be?" Little Creek asked, all eyes turning to regard Peter.

"I don't know how this has come about. I can only relate what has been told to me by those that know. Hook and his pirates exist, but not as living men. They look and live like the living, they fight like the living, and as long as they exist beyond the reach of the moon, they cannot be killed."

Gasps and hushed murmurs greeted Peter's speech. One of the elders spoke.

"If what you say is true, how do you plan to defeat this foe, this enemy that cannot be killed?"

"The moons' light reveals them in their true form...only then can they be destroyed." Peter looked around seeing disbelief on most of the faces, mistrust and wariness on others. In the corner the most revered of the Indian tribe rose to his feet, banging his ornately carved staff on the ground for silence.

"He speaks the truth." Grey Fox swept his arm in a wide arc, the tent falling silent, all eyes fixed on him. "These half-creatures live in the heart of the mountain, they are the spirits of the dead, brought to life by a great evil. They wish only harm to our land, to our people." He pointed directly at Peter. "You are the object of their evil. They have stolen your woman to draw you into their trap. If you go and are killed then everything that is Neverland will cease to exist." Grey Fox glanced at his rapt audience. "If Peter Pan goes to the mountain he will die, and Neverland will be no more. We will be no more."

With a flick of his hand Grey Fox signaled. Immediately three braves grasped Peter's arms, another pulled the fairy sword from his belt along with his dagger. The tent erupted with voices, cries of alarm and disbelief mixing with shouts of anger. Peter struggled against the braves but found himself held securely. Glaring, he opened his mouth to speak only to have Grey Fox once more signal and the tent fall silent.

"Why are you doing this? Let me go!"

"You are the Pan....you have heard the Fairy Queen's words. If you die, we all die....therefore you cannot go to the mountain."

"How could you know what she said? What about your granddaughter?" Peter shouted at Little Creek.

"Is what Grey Fox says true?" Little Creek asked, knowing the answer already. Peter clamped his lips shut, turning back to glare at the medicine man, twisting his body to try and free himself from the braves.

"You can't leave her there...they'll kill her!"

Grey Fox stepped forward, the braves around Peter falling back except for the three holding him tightly.

"What is one woman.....or one child against the continued existence of our world, our home, our way of life?"

"You can't do this!" Peter raged, struggling harder.

"To preserve this tribe, these people, the life of a child is a small sacrifice." Grey Fox replied grimly.

"NO!"

Peter stared around at the people in the tent, noting the dull acceptance on Little Creek's face as she held her daughter, Fly's mother, who wept quietly. No-one would meet his eyes, all turning away, accepting Grey Fox's word as the end of the discussion.

"We will post guards at the entrances to the mountain. If any of Hook's men appear we will be forewarned. No more of our people will be used as hostages again. If necessary we will move to the other side of the island. Neverland must continue as if has always done."

"You're mad....Hook won't stop...he's already trying to wipe our the Mermaids, he's almost succeeded with the Fairies....you will be next, if we don't stop him now!"

"You may be right Pan...but we cannot allow you to risk your life. It was agreed long ago that if there was any serious threat to your continued existence that every effort would be made to ensure you did not come to harm. For the sake of those that have safeguarded you in the past, and those that will do so in the future, I order that you be bound and kept safe until the danger is passed, or proof that the hostages can no longer be used to lure you to your death."

"Proof.....you mean when you find Wendy and Fly's dead bodies.....NEVER!"

Renewing his struggles, Peter wrenched an arm free and lashed out at Grey Fox, almost catching the man as he danced back. Quickly Peter found himself secured with tough leather cord, his hands tied behind his back and his feet trussed. Still struggling he was quickly carried from the tepee and taken to another tent off to the side of the camp. The Indians followed at a distance in almost complete silence, headed by Grey Fox. Little Creek had left the main tent and headed back to her own surrounded by her family, her sons both bewildered and angry at the turn of events. Although Chief Panther was the nominal head of the tribe, Grey Fox was the real power and few were prepared to gainsay the Medicine Man who, it was rumored, spoke with the spirits of the island. Once inside their own tepee, Little Creek signaled for her family to gather around.

"What are we to do?" Asked her son-in-law, the father of Fly.

"Peter is the Protector of Neverland.....not Grey Fox. I am no more willing to give up on finding our Precious Butterfly and the Wendy lady than Peter."

"Then we are going alone?" Asked one of her younger sons, his hand on his knife.

"We may be going to our deaths, my son. You heard Peter....Hook and his pirates are not mortal, not living, but you also saw that sword. It can only have come from the Fairies. If they have faith in Peter, then so should we."

Gathered in the half light of the tent, Little Creek stared at each of her sons and their offspring and mates. Each returned her look with one of hope and defiance. Nodding, Little Creek started to speak in hushed tones, the whole family joining in the planning as they huddled together.

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Peter lay in the dark, his body tense as he fought to free his wrists from the tough cords that bit painfully into his skin. He was stunned at the turn of events. He had never stopped to consider that maybe others knew what the Fairy Queen knew. Grey Fox was one of the oldest of the Indians, his presence always there in the background but his voice rarely heard. Now it was revealed that Grey Fox was the real leader of the Indian tribe, his word law in their world above all other, including the Elders.

He cursed knowing that if he'd taken the Fairy guard with him into the Indian camp he wouldn't be lying trussed up like a chicken. Instead he'd ordered the Captain of the Fairy troop to await his return from the Indian camp as Peter had expected no opposition, more fool him.  
Grunting, he twisted again, tugging at the bindings, sweat trickling down his face with the effort. A noise from outside made him freeze, his ears straining to hear. The whisper came again and Peter turned his head to stare at the flat wall of hide that was the back of the tepee. As he watched something poked through the wall and started to slide down leaving a gaping slit as it passed. Peter twisted his neck back and checked on the braves left outside his door as guards. They were still there, but only one was awake, the other nodding over his post.  
Peter turned back and watched as the sharp point of the knife finished its downward path and returned to make a cross ways cut to enlarge the opening. Within seconds a small figured had been handed through the cut. Without a word being said small fingers were placed over Peter's mouth to signal silence before busy hands sliced through the cord around his feet and hands, the rush of blood back into his fingers and toes making Peter bite his lip to still a cry of pain. The small figure waited while he massaged feeling back into his extremities, then signaled Peter by tugging on his sleeve to follow his rescuer out of the hole. Outside Peter found himself surrounded by Little Creek's family who hustled him away into the tree line on silent moccasins. The group moved quickly through the trees and away from the camp, the children as silent as their parents, Peter ignoring the sting of his cuts and bruises.

At a sufficient distance from the camp the group stopped and surrounded Peter once more, Little Creek coming to stand in front of him, her nut brown face tilted up so that he could see the gleam of her dark eyes.

"We are yours to command Peter Pan. We have our weapons and our belongings. We cannot return to the camp, we have gone against Grey Fox and are now no longer of his people. We are all prepared to follow you into the mountain to rescue our Precious Butterfly, your Wendy and defeat Hook."

Peter looked around at the silent group, their hopes and fears reflected on their faces, everyone hanging on his reply.

"You risk much Little Creek...you and your family risk everything. I will do no less. I will take anyone who is willing to join me....but I will not take the children." Some of the women started to talk only to fall silent when Peter raised his hand. "I know many of your women are as brave fighters as their men, but the children are your future. They need to be taken to a safe place."

"We have already discussed this Peter....the children will be taken to the caves to await our return. The rest, men and women, will follow you."

"I have others to join us......" Putting his fingers to his lips Peter whistled sharply, twice, the sound carrying through the trees. Within a few seconds a cloud of bright lights approached, coalescing into the group of Fairy guards given by the Fairy Queen to aid Peter in his fight. They hovered overhead, regarding the strange assortment of Indians below with some curiosity.

"We also have this......" One of Little Creeks sons stepped forward with something wrapped in a blanket. He handed it to Peter who unraveled it to reveal his Fairy sword. In the blanket it had appeared dull and lifeless but as soon as Peter touched it, it glowed as if alive only reverting back to dull metal after he tucked it into his belt.

"Let us get ready.......Little Creek, get the children under way, the sooner we start for the mountain the better, it has already been too long."

With the minimum of fuss the children were quickly rounded up and led away by two of the older women along with an older man who pulled a cart piled with provisions. Once they were gone Peter crouched down to discuss their plan of action.

"It will take many hours to traverse the distance to the mountain on foot. I have a way to shorten that time." Digging into his shirt Peter withdrew the pouch of fairy dust. Some of the braves muttered uneasily, but most just looked on with intense curiosity.

"Are you suggesting we fly Peter?"

"Yes Little Creek........it will give us a head start on anyone tracking us from the Indian camp and get us to the mountain sooner."

"What do we have to do?" Asked one of the braves.

Peter pinched a small amount of the softly glowing powder from the pouch and sprinkled it on the mans' head. The others watched in wonder as the golden dust settled on the mans dark hair and bare shoulders.

"Now....think of something that made you very happy, either a person, or a thing or something that happened...whatever made you laugh." Peter instructed. For a moment the brave screwed up his eyes and appeared to be thinking hard. As they watched he floated several feet straight up, his eyes still closed. A collected gasp brought his eyes open and he looked down to see his family staring up at him in wonder.

"Blue Cloud....you are flying!" Little Creek laughed to see her youngest son floating among the tree branches. Peter launched himself effortlessly into the air and joined the astonished young Indian, showing him how to push off and turn until the Indian brave was following Peter in and around the dark tree trunks as if born to fly. One by one the rest of the warriors were introduced to the fairy dust until the glade was full of flying bodies, swooping and diving with only hisses and grunts to indicate their presence. When Peter felt the troop were sufficiently confident, he signaled them back to earth. There they gathered their weapons and provision before launching themselves once more into the air to follow Peter and his brightly glowing fairy guards towards the dark bulk that was the mountain of the moon against the starlit sky.

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Wendy pressed a hand to her chest to still her hammering heart as she hid once more in a small niche off to the side of the main tunnel. It had seemed like hours, but most probably only minutes since she left her locked room with George's help. Now they were trying to find a way to the surface while avoiding any of the pirate horde that inhabited the maze like passageways riddled throughout the mountain. It hadn't taken them long to become hopelessly lost with all the tunnels looking the same as the last, George giving Wendy the slight advantage of being able to warn her when someone was coming to give her time to hide. So far they had been little hue and cry after her escape giving her some hope that they might be lucky and find a way to get out. As she waited, concealed in the shadows, she tried not to dwell on the prospect of Peter being captured by Hook and his hordes. The various methods shouted out when she'd been held by Hook was enough to make her feel sick and faint all over again. Swallowing hard she pressed her shaking hands against the cold rock wall and tried to listen over the thunder in her ears, for George's return. His appearance made her jump, her nerves frazzled by the game of cat and mouse.

"Wendy?"

"Oh George...you scared me to death!"

"Sorry...you have to move now....the passage is clear and there's another fork ahead."

Wendy groaned to herself. They had encountered more twists and turns than a bowl of spaghetti, her sense of direction completely ruined the further they went.

"And Wendy? The passage is completely in the dark....you'll have to trust me to lead you."

"Dark? But that's a good thing...it means the pirates aren't using it, we'll be safe."

"Well....yes....but it means you won't be able to see where you're going....neither will I."

"Oh....that's not a good thing."

"And you'll have to hold my hand."

Wendy shuddered, remembering how cold he felt. "I can do that. Let's get going."

Still semi-transparent, George led the way back into the tunnel, Wendy close behind him. Her feet ached from running along the rough rock floor but made no protest when George waved her forward and she ran as fast as she could with her blue velvet skirt hitched up above her ankles. They reached the fork and George led her down the left hand passage, the floor quickly becoming hard to traverse with the amount of dirt and rocks strewn over the surface and the fading light from the last torch still flickering at the junction. Wendy stopped, hopping a little as she hissed in pain from stubbing her toe on a rock. George appeared more solidly in front of her, his eyes looking over her shoulder as they paused at the limit of the faint light, ahead of them only inky blackness. George looked worried.

"I've never been down this passageway Wendy...I don't know where it leads or even if it leads anywhere."

"Anywhere would be better than back there with....them." Wendy put out a hand and felt the abrasive rock wall. "We can't stop...every moment we waste here means Peter getting captured and worse. I won't be used as a Judas goat....we have to get out of here."

"Then hold my hand.....lets hope this tunnel leads us to where we want to go."

Wendy felt the chill before his ghostly flesh touched her, her fingers flinching slightly as his icy hand closed around hers. She couldn't repress the shiver that ran down her arm.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it......I'll keep one hand on the wall while you take the lead."

With hesitant steps, Wendy drew in a deep breath and followed George, literally blindly, into the unknown.

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Peter and his brave followers arrived at the first tunnel as the moon rose over the horizon. It was quite full, casting a bright swathe of light over the island, the flank of the mountain painted in harsh shadows, the moon almost yellow as it sat low in the sky. The Fairy guards had been instructed as to which tunnel would most likely lead into the interior and they showed Peter one concealed by a series of large rocks that created a labyrinth that lead into a wide cave which in turn had two entrances to the tunnels at the back. The Indian's lit the lantern's they'd brought with them, refueling them with oil before lighting the wicks and casting bright yellow light over the ancient rocks and stalagmites. The lanterns were usually used for night fishing by the Indians and each one could be closed to block the glow without losing the flame. With the lanterns on long poles, the whole group could travel easily along the jagged passage, the angle of the floor leading downwards into the interior of the mountain. They had left all unnecessary provision in the cave mouth, carrying only fuel for the lanterns and their collections of weapons. Peter had told them about the Drops of the Moon given to him by the Fairy Queen, and all agreed to keep this for use against the pirates, in the event they could not lure them to the surface. They had only a few hours of moonlight to achieve their goal before the sun rose, their objective to find and free Wendy and Fly then lead the pirates to the surface during the retreat and hopefully lure the pirates to their doom in the moonlight. As plans go it was tenuous at best and no one was fool enough to put too much faith in its execution, but they all knew that they could no more leave Wendy and Fly to their fate than stop the tide coming in.

At first the tunnel was jagged and broken, the floor uneven and rock strewn, making progress difficult, but the further they progressed the better the tunnels became, as if cleared of debris and tidied up by someone. There was no evidence of anyone using the passageway, the dust underfoot undisturbed by feet for millennia, but they remained on alert anyway, listening and looking for any sign of anyone else in the tunnels.

Their first encounter with the creatures dwelling in the mountain came without warning, the lead brave running back to warn the main group that a party of pirates were approaching fully armed and looking very much alive and lethal. Peter had already discussed a plan of attack that involved using the Drops of the Moon but it would take precision marksmanship from the Indians and the element of surprise. Quickly hiding their lanterns to the side of the tunnel, the Fairy Guard dimming their lights, Peter and his warriors formed their ranks, the ones in front crouched low, the second row standing behind them and the ones behind standing in the gaps between. Peter stood to the side, the vial of precious Fairy magic poised to allow a single drop to fall and ignite the earth for the briefest of moments. The brave that had warned them had crept back down the passageway to act as a lure for the unsuspecting pirates, their cries getting closer as the brave ran back to where Peter and the others waited. As Fleet Foot rounded the bend in the corridor Peter raised his hand and the Indians raised their bows, arrows notched and ready. With horrible screams the pirates rounded the bend, skidding to a halt when they saw the three banks of Indians waiting for them. They only paused for a moment before they advanced at a run, screaming and waving their weapons over their heads. Peter tilted the bottle and a single drop of silvery liquid fell from the crystal lip, the droplet falling to the dust as the group of ten or more pirates were twenty feet from his band of braves. As soon as the drop hit the dust bright light flared into life, as bright and white as snow, casting dark shadows over the hellish scene of screaming pirates and stoic Indians. The light didn't stop the pirates who rushed forward only to find their bodies hit with a wave of arrows that found their mark with deadly accuracy. With each arrow that thudded into a pirate body, the light of the moon bathing their contorted faces, that body crumbled into dust, the parody of life snuffed out, the screams dying as each arrow found its mark before the light of the moon faded within three breaths. In the darkness that followed the only sound was the harsh breathing of the Indians as they surveyed the now empty passageway. Lanterns were quickly unshuttered and yellow light showed the results of their brief battle. All the pirates were gone, the only evidence of their existence being piles of dust with arrows at their center. Although shocked at the suddenness of the brief battle they gathered the fallen arrows and looked to Peter for the signal to proceed.

"They can be defeated...." Fleet Foot whispered to his mother.

"Did you ever doubt that the Pan would prevail? Foolish boy." Replied Little Creek ruffling his hair as they set out once more, another brave taking point as they rounded the bend.

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Fly was crouched uncomfortably behind some tumbled crates at the back of the huge cavern, her eyes red rimmed with fear and tiredness. She was still shaking from her close encounter in the tunnel. Having slept for a few hours she'd awoken to hear voices coming down the passageway towards her. Having no where to hide she simply curled herself into as small a ball as she could and kept as still as possible, hoping to pass as a rock in the dim light of the tunnel. Her plan seemed to work, the pirates passing her by without a glance, the yellow torch light disappearing from sight before Fly found the courage to uncurl herself. She waited to see if they would return before scrambling to her feet and continuing her journey towards wherever the men had come from.

She was very hungry and thirsty and liberally coated in dust and sand, but her determination burned brightly, stopping her fears from overwhelming her. She started to see light coming from up ahead and she approached the cave opening on silent feet, keeping low and close to the rock wall. She had to blink against the light of the many torches that burned around the walls until her eyes accustomed themselves to the harsh, smoky atmosphere. Most of the men she could see had their attention fixed on the man sitting in a throne on a rock ledge on the opposite side of the cavern and Fly used this to slip silently along the wall to the cover of the crates. No one saw her and she breathed a little easier, having a clear view of between two of the crates while remaining hidden. There seemed to be nothing much happening and Fly almost fell asleep again but a shout jerked her head up and she peered between the boxes to see a man run into the cavern, skidding to a halt at the base of the rock ledge before jabbering to the man sitting on the chair above him. Fly couldn't hear what he said but a man dressed all in black, who stood behind the chair, suddenly started to gesture to several of the pirates who rushed out of the cavern down one of the tunnels as the men left behind muttered and gathered closer together.

The man in the chair had not moved while his men milled and shifted, his body slumped as if uncaring of the alarm that seemed to spark and jump from pirate to pirate. Only once did he move, to gesture to the man in black, who leant down to hear what his leader had to say.

Fly heard a noise and ducked back down, hugging the crates as three pirates appeared from the tunnel near where she was hiding. The men jumped down the ledges leading to the floor of the cavern and reported to the leader in the chair, their words unclear to Fly from that distance. After passing on their information they were waved away and climbed back up to where Fly hid, seating themselves within a body length of the crates. Fly shuffled forward and listened closely as they started to talk.

"He's not best pleased with what we had to say..."

"'e obviously expected the brat to come sooner for 'er."

"Well...wouldn't you? She's a tasty slut....I'd sure hurry to get 'er back if I'd lost her."

"Yeah...but we all know what a horny bastard you are Wilkes..."

The men laughed quietly before talking again.

"She won't get far....and gawd 'elp 'er when they catch up with 'er....the Capt'n won't be in a good mood!"

"Is he ever? Don't know why 'e didn't just top her before....either that or give her to us to have a bit o' fun."

"Reckon he 'as 'is own plans for the moll...and I don't blame him for that....don't fancy being in Eli's shoes when Hook's finished with 'im."

"Yeah...poor bastard.....full moon tonight too....reckon 'es a gonna."

"So will we be if we don't go and watch that tunnel...get to it lads."

Fly shrank back as the men passed her, their boots ringing on the rock floor as they disappeared from her sight.

Fly tried to make sense of their words, her forehead furrowed as she tried to decipher their meaning. If the 'she' was Wendy, then it appeared that she had managed to escape, but they expected her to be caught and soon. But who was the Captain?

Too tired to make sense of it all, Fly curled up and tried to ignore the pangs of her empty stomach.

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(will Peter and his brave band be in time? Will Wendy and George find a safe passage through the labyrinth? Will Fly remain undiscovered? Tune in next week for another exciting chapter)......tbc.....ttfn


	12. Lost and Found

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Twelve - Lost and Found

Rating: PG13

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Authors Note: thank you to those that continue to enthusiastically review, you are all treasures. Work is really sucking up my writing time, as well as other demands on my free time. I hope you enjoy this latest installment.  
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Wendy and her ghostly companion were making slow progress in the pitch black of the tunnels. Her feet were bruised and cut from the sharp stones that littered the ground, the sound of her labored breathing harsh in the darkness. Thirst was becoming a demon that tormented her, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom that surrounded them, fingers raw from scraping across the surface of the rock wall. As she stumbled along she fancied she heard noises behind her, spurring her on when her strength flagged, visions of Hook's ravaged face and cruel eyes bolstering her when she wanted to fall down and never move again. George was silent for most of their trek, his chilled fingers never leaving hers, only the faint gleam of his outline visible to Wendy's tired eyes.

"I don't...think...I can go any further...George."

"Wendy?"

Inelegantly, Wendy crumpled to the ground, her legs folding under her, her grasp on his icy fingers slipping away.

"I can't move another step...I'm sorry."

"We've come a long way, but I can't tell if we going upwards, towards the surface, or just further into the mountain itself."

Wendy snorted mirthlessly, her head leaning back to rest against the rough stone wall.

"As long as we are far away from Hook and his ghouls, I don't care."

George made no reply, his faint outline drifting back and forth in front of her as if he was pacing. Wendy closed her eyes only to snap them open when the sound of rocks clinking together was clearly audible from somewhere behind them.

"George? There's some one behind us.."

"Impossible...if it was the pirates they wouldn't trouble to skulk in the dark!"

"I tell you...I've been hearing things...noises, behind us for the last few hours. I thought I was going mad, but I just heard it again."

"I'll go and investigate...wait here for me."

Again Wendy snorted. "I couldn't move if I wanted to." She retorted, her fingers brushing lightly over her sore feet, feeling the stickiness of blood mixed with dust.

Wearily, she tried to make out anything in the stygian gloom as her companions faint outline headed off back down the tunnel.

After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, Wendy heard a shrill scream which made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, her lungs suddenly laboring to draw in air as she stared back they way they'd come. A bright light suddenly flared into life and Wendy shielded her eyes, crying out as a sudden wind washed over her, blowing dust and grit into her face. Spitting out dust she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, the afterimage of the light dancing in her vision as she clawed her way upright.

"George?...GEORGE?"

Uncaring of her pursuers, Wendy started back along the passageway, tears starting to stream down her face as she sobbed in pain and fear.

"George...where are you?"

Her cries echoed off the walls, disorientating her as she stumbled against the wall. Suddenly the tunnel was flooded with the light of many torches and Wendy staggered back against the wall, her eyes blinded. As she squinted to try and see her ears heard the sound she dreaded. A low, dry chuckle reached out to her, curling insidiously around her until she wanted to scream, the chuckle rising to an almost hysterical giggle, raising goosebumps on her arms.

"You're spectral rescuer is no more my dear...banished once more to the realms of memory and mist. I applaud your courage in trying to escape me, but it was always doomed. No-one escapes from my realm...no-one!"

Her eyes streaming, Wendy once more slithered to the dusty ground, her gaze taking in the figure of James Hook looming menacingly over her, his pirate cohorts grinning evilly behind their leader.

"How...how did you...?"

"I have a nose for blood," Hook grinned at her, tapping the side of his ruined proboscis, his eyes gleaming darkly in the lamplight.

Wendy glanced down at her abused feet and groaned at the dark stains that marked her passage, her lifeblood leading Hook to her despite the dark. Too tired to care, Wendy turned her head away and closed her eyes, drained of will. Hook snapped his fingers and a handful of men leapt to his bidding, hauling the girl to her ruined feet and holding her there while Hook paced around her, noting the tangled hair and filthy clothes.

"You've led us on a merry chase, Miss Darling, but all good things must come to an end, like your friend...George, was it? Now it is time to fulfill the purpose you were brought here for in the first place. Take her back to the cavern boys...as the silly chit disdains our generous hospitality, we must show her how a true pirates captive is treated. I hope you are in good voice m'dear...we like to hear a mite of screaming as we sport with our playthings. It adds to the piquancy of the entertainment."

Struck dumb with horror, Wendy could only roll her eyes in desperation as rough hands started to drag her away, back down the tunnel and back to her fate.

Throwing her head back she sucked in a breath then screamed, the shrill sound echoing back and forth the length of the tunnel until the air shimmered with the sound. Hook allowed her to scream twice more before ordering her gagged and bound and tossed over a shoulder. If Wendy had been conscious she would have winced at the tightness of her bonds but blessed darkness had once more claimed her, Hook's insane eyes the last sight before she spiraled into nothingness.

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Peter stopped dead when he heard the sound drifting up the tunnel towards them. It barely sounded human and he strained to make out the direction it came from as it seemed to fill the air and bounce off the walls twice more before ceasing abruptly.

"I pity the tortured soul that made that cry." Little Creek whispered as the last of the echoes faded into the rock. Peter felt a shiver course down his spine, the scream replaying in his head.

"We have to move faster."

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Fly awoke suddenly, unsure of what had roused her. She was still huddled in the shelter of the musty boxes, her stomach painfully cramping as she wrapped her arms about her middle, teeth biting her lip to stifle her cries.

The cavern was still brightly lit and she was able to peer between the boxes to see what had disturbed her. She could see the pirates gathered around the raised platform, much as before, although this time their leader appeared to be missing. Smoke from several fires was drifting to the roof far above her head forming a thick fog that swirled and shifted like a dense cloud looking for a way out. Pulling herself onto her hands and knees, Fly started to count the number of pirates milling about, her lips moving silently as she tallied, her dark eyes intent. Her Father and Uncles would need to know the number of the enemy if they were to attack the pirate stronghold.

As she came to the end of her tally she saw another group erupt out of a side tunnel, one of the men holding a figured slung over his shoulder, the long hair hanging down his back a clue to the captive's identity. Fly keened to herself when she recognized her friend, wincing when the pirate hoisted his insensible burden and dropped her onto the raised dais with scant regard to her comfort. The noise in the cavern became raucous and lewd, Fly thankfully not understanding many of the references, even if she recognized the intent. Behind the noisy first group came the man referred to as the Captain, which Fly realized must be the infamous Captain Hook, although the man bore little to the description popularly bandied about to frighten children. His hair was white, not black and his face appeared deformed, as if melted in front of a fire. From her hidden position, Fly added the newcomers to her tally of the enemy and fretted that there would not be enough braves to conquer the horde below.

Hook had limped his way up the steps to his throne, stepping over the prone body at his feet to settle himself comfortably, grinning crookedly at his men as they shouted his name. Reaching out a foot, he nudged the body on the ground, Wendy rolling slightly but remaining unresponsive. Ignoring the jeers of his men, Hook gestured for one of his underlings to come forward.

"Where is Skinner?"

"Searching the south passage as you ordered."

"Ah...send a runner to bring him back...I want every one to be present to witness the sport...oh and bring a bucket of water as well, our sleeping beauty has slumbered enough."

As his minion scurried off to carry out his orders, Hook held up his hands for silence.

"As you see, my scurvy brethren, I have caught the wench and returned her to our loving embrace."

He paused as the men laughed raucously at his joke.

"She is a little scuffed and dusty, but I'm sure that won't stop you showing the strumpet what happens to those that choose to defy the will of Hook!"

Again he paused to allow his motley crew to voice their approval.

"I was hoping that she would draw the Pan to our lair and to his doom, but it seems that he has as little use for the slut as we do...so I suggest you sharpen your wits and think of a suitable punishment for the her for causing us no little trouble!"

The cavern erupted, his men leaping and slathering, cat-calls and shouts drowning each other out as blood lust and insanity fought for supremacy while Hook settled himself and listened to their colourful suggestions for Wendy's fate. If even a quarter of the suggested options were carried out the girl would be little more than torn flesh and splattered blood before the hour was half done. They would have to be selective if she was to last for a decent enough interval before being despatched for good.

Unaware and uncaring of the fate being arranged for her, Wendy lay bound and insensate at Hook feet, her life hanging in the balance.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter, his fairy escort and brave warriors burst silently into the main tunnel at a run, weapons drawn, bows ready to let fly. Despite the flaming torches the tunnel appeared deserted as Peter and the others fanned out cautiously. They could hear muted shouts coming from one direction and Peter gestured for them to form up behind him as they crept towards the roar of voices. As they approached the wide entrance to the cavern beyond, words started to make themselves plain and Peter blanched as snatches of shouted suggestions reached his hearing. The men beyond their sight were baying like dogs for someone's life to be ended and Peter felt a stone lodge in his chest at the thought of who the pirates were wanting slain. Silently, the Indians and Peter crowded against the tunnel wall as the entrance to the cavern opened before them, the backs of several brawny pirates visible, all of them heavily armed, all focused on whatever was taking place further into the cave.

Peter signaled for his group to withdraw slightly. Away from the caverns entrance they huddled and spoke in hushed voices.

"I'll go in and draw their attention. Once all eyes are on me, make your way into the cave and take positions around the wall. Pick your targets and be ready for my signal. They are like to scatter so once you down your man, prepare to fight. Remember they cannot be killed, but you can slow them down, aim for the legs and arms. They may not die but even dead men can't run without legs or fight without arms!" Peter grinned, his brave followers nodding their agreement and understanding, answering grins lighting their tense features. Each carried tomahawks and knives, as adept with blades as with bows. "Look to yourselves, I will take care of Hook...but if I am caught, don't attempt to save me...get yourselves out of this hell and back to the surface."

"We won't leave you Peter...or your woman...it is the reason we're here, as well as our daughter!"

"I have not forgotten...but if something goes wrong, you have to return and warn the rest of your tribe..."

The voices from the cavern were getting louder and Peter felt an urgency in his gut to get himself in there. Rising to his feet he looked each of his followers in the eye, receiving their nods of grim agreement before turning to approach once more the entrance to the cave.

Slipping his enchanted sword free of its scabbard, Peter rose into the air until he was almost bumping his head on the rock ceiling. Here he was cloaked in shadow among the rocky stalactites. Reaching inside his shirt he once more pulled out the glass vial containing the tears of the moon. Lifting the tiny bottle he allowed a drop to tremble on the lip of the glass before it fell and landed on his forearm. Quickly stoppering the bottle, he replaced it against his body, watching in amazement as his limbs started to fade into nothing. Unseen now, he flew quickly into the brightly lit cavern, the noise of the pirates far below almost deafening him after the relative silence of the tunnels. Quickly scanning the vast chamber he felt a jolt on seeing the trussed body lying at Hook's feet. His breath seemed to leave his body in a rush when Hook produced a gleaming knife and reached down to slash the ropes, Wendy's lifeless limbs flopping free to lay in the dust. Peter's eyes narrowed in hate and rage, the sword in his hand tingling with energy as its owner fought to clear the red mist from his sight and concentrate on saving Wendy from Hook. Breathing heavily, Peter watched as his braves slipped into the shadows around the edges of the howling crowd of pirates, the fairy contingent staying near the entrance to guard their retreat, their pirates never noticing the enemy surrounding them. The Indian's would be vastly outnumbered, but surprise was on their side and Peter hoped that they all survived the coming battle. A slight movement caught his eye and Peter felt his heart skip a beat when the head of a child appeared over a stack of crates near the back wall. This had to be the child they sought, the girl's face strained as she tried to see what was going on. Almost at the same time, one of the Indian's approached the stack of boxes, almost tripping over in his surprise in seeing her, his reactions at first alarmed before quickly turning to joy, enveloping the girl in a bear hug before signaling her to resume her place of hiding. Peter took all this in at a glance, noting the positions of his fighters before turning his attention back to the raised dais and the drama surrounding his precious Wendy.

Hook was now standing, his feet either side of Wendy's body, his arms outstretched to draw the noise rabble below to order.

"Quiet Brutes! I hear you...and you'll get your chance." He waited for the voices to die down. A flicker of movement caught his attention and he looked up. Floating not six feet above his head he saw the outline of a figure, his features and form coalescing as if out of thin air. From inside his shirt Peter pulled the Tears of the Moon and let a single drop fall, the bright pearl landing on the rock next to Hook and immediately surrounding the dais and the horde of pirates with the blinding light of the moon. A hail of arrows rent the air, piercing bodies before they had a chance to turn and face their attackers, the pirates falling, dissolving into dust with each hit. Within seconds the light was fading, the surviving pirates filling the air with screams of shock and rage, the scrape of weapons drawn from belts and scabbards signaling the start of the battle. In the melee, Peter had landed on the raised platform and despatched Hook's bodyguard before the light faded leaving him alone with Hook, Wendy still unmoving at his feet. Hook had drawn his own sword and stood resolute, a savage grin pulling his ruined face into a grinning mask.

"So you come at last, Peter Pan...as you can see, your Wendy has been providing us with considerable sport in your tardy absence."

"Whatever you have done to her Hook will be repaid when I despatch you back to the hell you came from!"

"Bold words boy...I see you have lost none of your brash bravado."

"And you none of your hatred for me."

"I don't hate you Peter...I just want to destroy you, destroy what you love, what you care about...but I don't hate you." Hook laughed.

Peter lunged at him, the pirate Captain taking a step back, his head jerking to avoid the blade shimmering in Peter's hand. Hook could see it was no ordinary blade, the metal glowing as if infused with the anger and passion of its owner.

"You have been consorting with the fairies again Peter. I thought I had despatched the vermin for good. Did I miss some?"

"Enough to arm me with the weapons of your destruction Hook." Peter danced forward, Hook blocking his downward swing, the blades clashing as Peter drove Hook back and away from Wendy's prone body. Keeping his eyes on his arch-enemy, Peter bent down and placed his hand on Wendy's head, brushing the hair from her face, his fingers touching her cheek, heart leaping to find the skin warm and alive. Infused with hope, Peter blocked a blow from Hook's blade and advanced, ducking as Hook replied with a savage cut, trying to sever Peter's head from his shoulders.

Around the cavern, small battles were taking place, the Indians engaging the remaining Pirates in deadly hand to hand, knife and hatchet against cutlass and stiletto. Not bothering to try and stab their foes, the braves aimed to sever limbs, the screams of their victims filling the air, the scent of spilled blood sickening as it mixed with the smoke still filling the chamber from the scattered fires casting a lurid glow over the battle. The numbers were now even, the Indian's suffering no losses, while the pirates were quickly losing numbers, the maimed littering the rocky ground.

Fly had been reunited with her Grandmother and Father, the pair quickly removing the little girl from the scene of carnage, fighting their way back to the entrance to the cavern where they made their stand, the fairy guard hovering protectively as Fly watching in a mixture of shock and admiration while her doughty grandmother despatched a pirate twice her size, the man left writhing on the ground almost cut in two, his arm still waving his cutlass, unable to fight but unable to die either.

Two of Hook's henchmen had climbed the rock and now advanced on Peter, Hook standing back to let his men take over. Hook's eyes gleamed as he watched Peter fend off the two pirates, the air singing with the clash of blades, neither side giving an inch. Peter was breathing heavily, his attention all on the men coming at him from two sides, his arm stinging from the repeated blows of one of the pirates, while the other tried to come in under his guard, the man's blade almost skewering Peter before he managed to side step. Peter's back swing severed the man's head from his neck, the pirates body collapsing to the rock, arms and legs still thrashing. It distracted the other man long enough for Peter to twirl and sweep his blade upwards, disemboweling the pirate and leaving him howling like an animal, clutching his own entrails, unable to fight and hold in his guts at the same time.

Hook snarled and once more advanced, giving Peter no respite, his sword driving Peter back with a series of heavy blows, the pirates wicked hook catching Peter's blade, locking it together with his own, bringing the two together almost nose to nose. Straining, Peter tried to force Hook back, the muscles in his arms and legs cording. Youth won out and Hook was forced back, Peter throwing him off to the side. Hook didn't realize how close he was to the edge of the platform and Peter saw a look of surprise cross the man's ravaged face before he disappeared from view, falling off the rocky edge to the floor of the cavern several feet below.

Panting, Peter didn't go and peer over, but rushed to where Wendy lay. Laying the sword down, he gathered her into his arms and turned her over. She was still gagged so he drew his knife and sliced through the cloth, ripping it from her face, his eyes darkening as he added the red marks left by the material to his catalog of her injuries. She appeared to still be insensible, but as he smoothed the hair away from her face her lips moved. Her words were indiscernible so Pete leant closer.

"I'm...I'm...so-rry..." Wendy whispered, her eyes still closed.

Uncaring of the shouts and screams still echoing around the cavern, Peter gently lifted Wendy in his arms, shifting her so that her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder, her body limp.

"There's nothing to be sorry for...Wendy?"

But she had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Peter glanced up, taking note of the battle still raging below. Lowering Wendy gently to the ground he went to check where Hook had fallen, finding no sign of the pirate on the rocky ground. The odds against the Indians were considerably less now, the braves already starting their retreat towards the cavern's mouth, the pirates not daring to approach too close. The air was thick with their shouted curses while the Indians watched them warily, tomahawks and bows at the ready to despatch anyone foolish enough to come within their reach. Peter sheathed the fairy sword and returned to Wendy, gathering her into his arms before rising into the air and flying the short distance to meet his fighting force gathered once more, ready for the retreat. Fly, well protected by her father and grandmother, cried out when Peter arrived with his precious burden, the little girl wanting to touch her friend to reassure herself that Wendy still lived.

"Will she...will she die?" Fly asked, her eyes huge in her small face.

"NO!" Peter almost shouted before catching himself, her words striking fear in his heart. "No, she is just hurt.. we have to get her to the surface as quickly as possible."

Peter led the way back into the tunnels, the remaining pirates not following immediately, their numbers too small to overpower the Indians. One of the braves took point and led them to the junction, several of the group relighting the lanterns once they entered the darkened passageway, the rear guard on the alert, weapons at the ready in case any of the surviving pirates decided to come after them.

Wendy's weight felt very slight in Peter's arms, her head rolling against his neck as he jogged along with his followers, Fly riding on her father's shoulders happily munching an apple someone had given her.

When his adrenaline surge of energy faded, another took his place, bearing Wendy for a time before another took over from him. In this manner they made rapid progress back towards the surface, only stopping to gather their discarded belonging along the way before emerging into the glory of the Neverland night. They all drank deeply of the night air, the cool breeze heavenly after the dank closeness of the mountain. After a brief respite they scattered to position themselves out of sight around the mountains entrance in case any of the pirates sought to follow them. While the others kept watch, Peter lay Wendy down on a patch of soft grass, her face even paler in the moonlight, her dark lashes lay like bruises against her cheeks, her lips washed white in the ethereal light. Little Creek sat nearby, cradling Fly in her lap, the little girl exhausted and already asleep, safe in her grandmother's arms. The Indian woman watched Peter as he smoothed the hair away from Wendy's face, ignoring the tangles and dirt to press his lips to her forehead before clasping one of Wendy's slim hands between his own and chafing it lightly.

"Come back to me Wendy...you're safe now. Please come back to me."

In the pale light Wendy looked as one dead, her face smooth and lifeless, her body limp and unresponsive. Little Creek despaired, her heart breaking for Peter as he continued to chafe her hands, his voice whispering to her, begging her to return to him.

Above their heads the moon rode the clear sky like a queen, shining down on the small group, bathing them in her light like a benediction. As the bright orb traveled the sky, one by one the weary fighters succumbed to sleep, only two stalwarts remaining on watch as the moon finally set and the sky started to take on the tinge of dawn. Peter lay on the grass next to Wendy, his hand still clasping her's, his other hand curled around the hilt of his sword which lay beside him.

Wendy lay at his side breathing shallowly until the first rays of the sun slowly inched their way up her body, bathing her in faint warmth until they reached her face, her eyes opening to blink up at the canopy of trees that sheltered them from its bright intensity. Little Creek and Fly slept some way off, curled around each other like a lioness and her cub. Turning her head to the right Wendy saw Peter close at her side, her gaze drinking in the sight of him, wandering over his sun-gold hair to his handsome face, lingering on his youthful features as if engraving them on her memory. As she returned to full awareness, her body started to clamor for her attention, her lips parting on a low moan as pain distracted her from her perusal of Peter's face.

At the sound of her pain, Peter snapped awake, his body tense and alert, fingers closing around the handle of the sword before relaxing as he sensed no danger.

"Pet-er.." Wendy whispered, her face contorted with pain as she tried to roll onto her side towards him.

"Don't move Wendy...I don't know how badly you're injured." Peter told her hurriedly, stilling her feeble movements, his hands cupping her face to bring her focus back to him.

"You came for me..." She murmured, gazing up at him in wonder, her eyes slightly unfocused as pain dulled her senses.

"Of course I came for you...I love you..."

Wendy felt her eyes prick with tears, too weak to stop them sliding from the corner of her eye.

"He was going to kill you...kill Neverland...oh Peter."

"Hush now...Hook can't hurt us...his pirate force's almost wiped out...he can't hurt you any more Wendy."

Careful not to jostle her too much, Peter eased her upright and settled her in his arms, his lips pressing kisses to her hair and upturned face, uncaring of the dirt and dust coating them both. Wendy clutched at his shirt, trembling slightly as Peter tightened his hold, his hands slowly stroking her back to sooth her.

"I have you now...you're safe..."

"Oh Peter, I was so scared...I almost didn't want you to come...I thought if you did you'd be killed for sure..there were so many of them."

"I didn't come alone...I had help. The Fairy Queen gave me a sword and fairy dust and some Tears of the Moon to aid us, plus an escort to show us the way. Also there is Little Creek's family, altogether quite an army."

Mention of the Indian's made Wendy stiffen in his arms. "Peter..what happened to Fly...I didn't see what they did to her...was she hurt? Did they...did they kill her?"

"Look over there Wendy...Fly is safe and unharmed...she followed your kidnappers to the cave and hid."

Wendy turned her head slightly and a faint smile tilted her lips as she saw the pair on the other side of the glade.

"I'm glad...I would never have forgiven myself if she'd come to harm."

Wendy shuddered, horror at what might have been sweeping over her and making her chilled. Peter held her tightly, his fingers caressing her gently as she trembled with remembered fear.

As the sun warmed them, other started to creep into the clearing, the night watch, relieved of their post, curling up to sleep while others gathered wood for a fire to prepare a meager breakfast while the forest came alive around them with birds twittering and insects setting up a chorus of sound. Peter held Wendy as she fell into a light doze while the Indian's quietly set up camp, passing Peter a bowl of food and another for Wendy when she awoke. Water was collected from a nearby stream and they sat in the fresh morning air glad to be alive, the horrors of the night starting to fade.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Skinner surveyed the devastation in the main chamber with a jaundiced eye. The message to return had arrived too late for him and his search party to do more than try and repair some of the damage to their fellow pirates. It was a gruesome task as many had suffered horrendous wounds that couldn't be put right with a bandage or sling. The worst wounded were carried in a cart to one of the entrances to the cave system and consigned to the moonlight, their remains quickly dissolving into dust as the moon brought her curse to bear, Skinner and his cohorts careful not to allow a sliver of moonlight to touch them and suffer the same fate as their former comrades.

With the cave cleared of the worst of the survivors, Skinner organized the rest to gather weapons and supplies. They would wait until morning and launch an assault on Peter and his rescue party before they knew what hit them. Hook had reappeared soon after Skinner had returned, the Captain not giving his second-in-command much information about the bloody conflict other than to spit out that Peter Pan had possessed a magical sword and something that made him invisible. Hook railed and cursed both at the Pan and Skinner, abusing what remained of his men until spittle flew from his lips and his normally pale face turned purple. Skinner ignored it all, his lips pressed into a grim line as he ordered the remaining body parts tossed into the cart and removed.

"I want Peter Pan's head on a spike, I want his entrails draped over my chair, his eyes gouged out, his hands and feet cut off...I want him DEAD!" Hook ranted, slashing the air and gouging splinters off his throne with his hook.

"It is a full moon...we cannot go out of the mountain yet."

"As soon as dawn breaks...I want them all DEAD!"

"They won't have gone far." Skinner advised, having heard about Wendy's capture and her rescue. "They have an injured woman and a child with them. More than likely they are not more than a stone's throw from the mountain even now."

"Then what are we waiting for...lets KILL THEM NOW!"

Gathering together the surviving pirates, Skinner directed them to gather what weapons they could carry, along with a small cannon, shot and powder. They would travel to the surface along the same tunnel taken by Pan and his followers. Once there they would wait until the sun rose then launch their assault.

The trip to the surface took longer than expected as they found themselves plagued with unexpected, and sometimes unexplainable delays. Torches and lanterns were extinguished suddenly, without anyone able to explain how or why and time lost relighting them. The powder for the cannon was found to be wet, where before it was perfectly dry, so fresh stock had to be returned for which delayed them again. Other happening of mischance led Skinner to believe that there was some evil spirit conspiring to stop them reaching the surface, Hook's curses raining down on them with each setback.

The sun was well up in the sky by the time they reached the mouth of the tunnel, the expanse of Neverland laid out before them in all her sun drenched glory. Skinner shielded his eyes, squinting after so long in the dark, his skin prickling with the feel of the sun beating down on him. Most of the pirates stayed within the shadow of the mountain, fearful of the sun even though it was proved to have no curse on them.  
Hook stood beside Skinner, his blue eyes like ice peering into the distance, searching for traces of the rescue party.

"There...smoke...the fools have camped...we'll catch them for sure! This time there'll be no fairy magic potion to save them now!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

(will Hook and his henchmen catch up with Peter? who will win the final battle? will darkness prevail or the moon call down her curse and finish Hook?...to be continued)


	13. Battles and Beyond

Title: Whither By Moonlight

Author: Squeezynz

Chapter: Thirteen - Battles and Beyond.

Rating: R for sex and violence, character death.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They broke camp after a hasty breakfast, Peter rousing Wendy from her doze to consume the meager meal and a drink before helping her to her feet. The rescue party gathered around them, reaching out tentative fingers to touch Wendy and Fly, as if to reassure themselves that it hadn't been a dream, that their efforts had not been too late. Despite her aches Wendy smiled shyly at the brown faces and endured the touches of reassurance, Peter's arm around her back, a solid warmth that kept her upright and against his side.

They hastily quenched the fires and started on the journey down the mountain, the pace slow to start with. Peter once more carried Wendy in his arms, ignoring her faint protests, too happy to have her back and alive.

They had only just left the clearing when they heard a loud boom followed by the familiar whistle of a cannonball, the explosion and impact shaking the ground. Through the screen of trees they saw a plume of smoke rise from where they'd been camped only moments before.

"Quickly...scatter and make your way back to the village!" Peter ordered, the fairy guard hovering over his and Wendy's head.

"What of you?" Little Creek hissed, Fly clutched to her side.

"Wendy and I will return to the house in the valley for now. Hurry, you must warn the others!"

Hearing the shouts of the surviving pirates invading the glade, the Indians silently melted into the forest, Fly and Little Creek surrounded by braves before disappearing into the greenery. Peter gathered Wendy to him and lifted into the air as a screaming pirate broke through the trees, his sword twirling above his head. Wendy shut her eyes as Peter carried her above the man's head and beyond his reach. Quickly surveying the area to make sure that all the braves were away and safe, Peter rose higher as the pop of musket fire rent the air around him. Looking down briefly he saw Hook's white head amidst his men, the Captain shaking his fist at the sky as Peter flew beyond their range.

Wendy had stiffened in his arms, her face buried against his shoulder, hands clutching his shirt. Almost forgotten, the Fairy Guard hovered close, weapons drawn, in a protective cloud, more than one musket ball deflected by a fairy spell as Peter flew them to safety.

Peter knew that now the pirates were out of the mountain they would quickly seek out the Indians and seek retribution for the attack on their stronghold. He also knew that he would have to be there to fight that battle and hold off the pirates until the moon once more rose into the air. He'd checked the tiny glass vial of Moon drops before they'd left the glade, but there was almost nothing left of the magical fluid. That left only the fairy sword, the strength of his arm and cunning to win against Hook and his hordes.

His arms tightening about the girl in his arms, Peter dove down and gently landed on the ground not more than a few steps from the house concealed in the grove. Wendy had remained silent through the short trip, her hands gripping his shirt tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. Carrying her through the door and into the dimly lit central room, Peter carried on to the bedroom, the Fairy Guard still hovering just behind him. Setting Wendy down on the edge of the bed, Peter found that he couldn't release her fingers from his shirt, her hands cold to the touch as faint tremors shook her body every few seconds.

"Wendy, you're safe, you can let go now."

Only a slight shake of the head still pressed to his shoulder was her reply. Sighing inwardly, Peter turned to address the Captain of the Fairy Guard.

"Return to the Queen and tell her of all you've seen and heard. It will take the pirates some time to reach the Indian village carrying a cannon, warn the Queen and your people to keep clear."

"But what of you, Pan?"

"We have twelve hours before the moon rises again. Hook won't wait that long to wreak his vengeance on the Indians, I have to defend them. Tell the Queen that the fate of Neverland will be decided today."

"As you command."

The fairies turned to go, the Captain pausing a moment before returning to Peter. "Good luck Pan." He chimed gravely before gathering his small force and flying out of the room and out of the house.

"Good luck to us all." Peter muttered.

With the departure of the fairies, Wendy relaxed the death grip she had on Peter's shirt, her heavy head lifting from his shoulder as she tilted her face up to his.

"It's not over, is it Peter?"

"No...Hook will make his way to the Indian village. I have to be there."

For a long moment, Wendy stared up into his face, her blue eyes searching over his features, her lips pressed into a thin line. Dark circles under her eyes and bruises on her cheek only highlighted the pallor of her skin. With a faint sigh, she released him completely and moved to put some space between them as they sat on the side of the bed. Her hands were trembling so she hid one of them in the folds of her ruined skirt, the other making an attempt to tidy her tangled hair off her face.

Peter watched her worriedly, not sure what to do for the best. Aware of his close scrutiny, Wendy turned to him and gave him a watery smile.

"I must look a fright."

"You look beautiful." Peter replied, returning her faint smile with one of his own. Wendy raised her hand and traced the outline of his mouth with an unsteady finger, her eyes fixed on its movement as it traveled over the bow of his upper lip, the faint creases that lined the corners of his mouth, the stubble that rasped against her finger tips as they traveled over his chin.

"I thought I'd never see you again Peter...I thought you'd never find me there, buried inside that mountain, and after what Hook said he was going to do to you, I didn't want you to find me."

Capturing her wandering hand in his own large, warm one, Peter brought it to his mouth and placed a kiss on the grubby palm, watching her bemused gaze as she followed his actions, moisture starting to pool in her eyes at his touch.

"I would never leave you Wendy...you are mine, and I never abandon what is mine..." Peter replied fiercely, his fingers pulling her hand down to rest over his heart.

Wendy felt his heart beat under her hand, her chilled fingers warmed by his skin. He felt alive and vibrant.

"I am yours..." She whispered, looking up at him.

"Yes Wendy...mine. Forever and always."

Now the tears of shock and relief fell from her eyes, spiking her lashes and sliding down her face. With a sob she closed the gap between them and threw herself against him, her arms snaking around his back to clutch him to her. Peter absorbed the impact, his own arms surrounding her and holding her as she cried out her fear and shock, soaking his shirt while releasing the knot of tension that had caused a lump to rise in his throat.

Together they stayed locked together as the sun sent shafts of light to dance over the floor. Slowly the tension left Wendy's body and she sagged against him, Peter lowering them to lay on the bed coverings, her sobs turning to hiccups, her body becoming soft and pliable as she molded herself to his long length. Carefully Peter rose from the bed, Wendy's eyes following him as he unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it to the floor, his stained and dusty shirt and trousers joining the weapons to pool on the floor at his feet. Naked, Peter climbed back on the bed and started to undo the buttons holding the ruined blue dress together. Wendy watched him mutely as he eased the torn sleeves down her arms, her body unresisting as he tugged the bodice down, easing the skirt over her hips and tossing the dress over the side of the bed. Still without a word spoken, he untied the ribbons holding her underclothes together, sliding them from her body and down her legs to join the others on the floor.

"Peter?"

"Shhhh," He held a finger to her lips, the touch turning to a caress as he repeated her former gesture and outlined her lips with his finger tip, the sensation whisper soft.

Tremors started to thread their way down Wendy's arms and legs, a heat coiling in her belly as Peter lay on his side beside her, his large hand gliding over her body as if re-learning all her curves and hollows. She felt drained after her tears, her flesh no longer chilled but coming alive under his touch, her breathing starting to hitch as his wandering hand reached down lower and spread her unresisting legs, delving into her core. Wendy gasped, her eyes slamming shut as his sure touch drove a spike of desire through her, her lips forming an oh of surprise.

A second later her lids flew up to find Peter a breath away from her, his bright gaze boring into hers, dragging her attention away from what his fingers were doing lower down.

"Why?" She asked dazedly.

"Because." He replied, lowering his head to nip at her mouth before covering it with his warm lips in a brief kiss.

"But I'm dirty and dusty and my hair..." Wendy found her protest smothered by another kiss.

"So am I." Peter murmured against her lips, rolling to cover her body with his own, his fingers leaving her moist center to be replaced by his hard length.

Drawing up her legs, Wendy wrapped them around him, his hardness still poised at her entrance, teasing her as he bent to kiss her again.

"But Hook...the pirates...oh..." Wendy arched against him as he thrust inside her, his mouth snatching away her words, his body robbing her of coherent thought as ice and fire lapped at her senses.

"Forget them Wendy...forget them all..."

For a suspended window of time Wendy did forget everything, except the feel of her lover's body worshiping hers, of his strength filling her void, of his love soothing her bruises. When it was over she lay sated and relaxed while he shuddered and spent himself inside her, her thoughts not on the battle to come, but of the man that held her heart in the palm of his hand.

"I love you Peter." Wendy whispered, her eyelids fighting a losing battle with the overwhelming desire to sink into oblivion.

"I love you too.." Peter whispered against her lips as she slid into sleep, his body still sheathed in her heat, his weight a welcome blanket that followed her into the welcoming darkness.

Peter felt her relax totally, her breathing evening out as Wendy sank into a deep sleep. Sliding out of her, Peter lifted himself off and rolled to the side, his pulse still hammering. In complete opposite to the girl slumbering at his side, Peter felt rejuvenated, his body crackling with energy as if bolts of lightning coursed through his veins, the need to be up and moving almost overwhelming. Careful not to jolt her, Peter stood and stretched, drawing air into his lungs as if he'd never breathed until that moment. Letting his arms drop he turned and looked down at Wendy, marveling at her beauty, wincing when he saw the numerous scrapes and bruises marring her fair skin. Leaning down he folded the bed cover over her long limbs, cocooning her in its silky warmth, before shifting her to lay more comfortably in the middle of the bed, her head resting on the pillows.

Assured of her comfort, Peter turned away, but not before pressing a last kiss on her downy cheek.

Leaving his soiled clothes, Peter gathered up his weapons and padded out of the bedroom. Dropping the sword onto the table he collected a wooden bowl and headed out of the house. His bare feet sank into the loamy soil as he made his way to the stream that wound its way through the valley. Wading into its shallow center, he scooped up the cool water with the bowl and sluiced it over his head, washing off the sweat and grime of the night before. Repeatedly he poured bowl after bowl of cool water over his body, the sun catching the drops and turning them to molten gold as they washed away the dirt. Clean once more he padded back to the house, the water drying on his skin. Throwing the bowl into a corner he quickly found some clean clothes and re-equipped himself, belting the fairy sword around his hips and pulling on a pair of boots.

Once more dressed for battle, Peter quietly stole into the bedroom, pleased to see that Wendy hadn't stirred from her position in the center of the bed. Smoothing her tangled hair away from her face, Peter gazed down at her for a long moment before leaning down and kissing her forehead. Her hand lay relaxed, palm upwards on the pillow, so he lifted it carefully and pressed his lips to the center before releasing it, her fingers curling reflexively around his kiss.

"I love you Wendy Darling..." He whispered in her ear before dragging himself away. Peter lingered for a moment in the doorway, gazing longingly at the sleeping figure, before resolutely turning his back and heading out of the house.

The fate of Neverland and everything he loved weighed heavily on his shoulders, their lives in the balance, future undecided, all dependant on the battle to come.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Wendy awoke to darkness. Not the inky black of night, but the grayish green of an approaching storm. Her body stretched and rolled, her face screwing into a wince as several aches made their presence known. Flopping onto her back she lay staring up at the strange ceiling of the bedroom, her limbs boneless within the fur coverlet. Sighing, she rose up onto her elbows, the cover slipping down to her waist.

"Peter?"

Getting no reply, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and made to rise, her head swimming slightly, making her sit down abruptly.

"Oh boy...let's try that again."

This time she was able to rise to her feet without swaying, the fur cover wrapped securely around her body as she padded across the floor and peeped around the edge of the doorway.

"Peter?"

Seeing the empty living room, Wendy frowned, turning back and almost tripping over the pile of clothes left heaped on the floor. Staring at the dirty rags brought her memory rushing back to her. The escape from the mountain, the reunion with Little Creek and Fly, the whistle of the cannon ball, the flight to their home and Peter's sweet lovemaking. Wendy's lips curved into a smile as she marveled how Peter knew exactly what she needed to heal her shattered and shocked body and soul. The horror of her time spent in the mountain had left her numb and broken, the shocks piling one on top of the other until she felt as if ice encased her heart. It had all happened so fast she hadn't had time to absorb or react to everything that had happened, her body stiff with fear, her skin icy, her heart dead in her chest. Peter had brought her back to life, soaking her in his love, filling her and surrounding her so that she had no choice but to feel and react, no choice but to give in to her body's demands, their lovemaking flooding her soul and driving the fear out.

As she stood staring at the heap of clothes a bright light zipped in the rounded window and flitted around her head, making her duck.

A peal of chimes sounded loud in the bedroom, the fairy coming to a halt, hovering in front of the face.

Wendy made to raise her hands to indicate her inability to understand, but the slipping bed cover forced her to grab at the fur and hoist it higher. The fairy's light appeared to brighten, then changed a series of colours from gold to red to blue back to white. Again the chime of bells rang out and Wendy could only shake her head.

"I'm sorry I don't understand."

Frustrated, the fairy buzzed forward and grabbed several strands of Wendy's hair, tugging it towards the doorway despite its owners yelp of pain, one of Wendy's hand engaging in a tug-of-war with her fairy tormentor.

"Ouch, let go...what do you want?"

Letting go, the fairy buzzed in close again and started to enact a mime. Wendy watched the tiny sprite while rubbing her sore scalp, the fairy seeming to enact a scene involving a lot of stabbing and slashing.  
Wendy stared blankly for a few seconds before her brain suddenly flashed an image of Peter standing over her and fending off pirates.

"Oh no...Peter...Hook...the pirates!"

The fairy started to nod her head vehemently as Wendy swung around, her hand to her mouth, her eyes going to the window and the stormy sky outside.

"I have to dress."

With an economy of effort, Wendy rummaged in one of the chests against the wall and pulled out a dress, discarding the fur coverlet in favor of a plain wool dress, the bodice a darker shade of green from the skirt. She didn't bother with the usual underclothes, preferring to pull on a pair of breeches under her skirt to give her the ability to move freely as the skirt only reached to just below her knees. Bundling her hair behind her head she found a length of ribbon in the same chest and hurriedly tied it back in a rough queue. Her feet were still bare and she dug into the chest, producing a pair of short boots that were a size too large but close enough for her not to worry about the difference.

During all this the fairy hung suspended, her glow constant as she watched the girl get dressed. As soon as Wendy slipped on the boots the fairy flew out of the room, beckoning her to follow.

As she crossed the room, Wendy skidded to a halt and hurried over to the corner that held a collection of weapons. Trying not to panic, she found a leather scabbard and belted it around her waist. Into that she sheathed a knife and rapier, tucking another knife in her boot for good measure. Her movements were jerky, nerves starting to gnaw at her insides leaving her feeling shaky. It had been some time since she'd wielded a weapon and she wasn't entirely sure she could do it with any skill, but she would try her best.

"Alright...I'm ready...or as ready as I'll ever be." She muttered before turning back and heading towards the front door.

Outside the sky seemed to boil, dark grey clouds tumbling over each other to blot out the sun, Wendy feeling a smattering of rain against her face as she stared upwards. The fairy was darting about the clearing outside the house, pointing excitedly at the sky and indicating for her to follow. Wendy drew in a deep breath, her nerves still jangling, before stepping out. Once she reached the center of the clearing the fairy swooped down and shook herself violently, a cloud of fairy dust showering down on Wendy, her hair glowing gold with the thick layer of shimmering substance. Almost at once her feet left the ground, the familiar sensation of weightlessness bringing a brief smile to her face.

"Of course...how clever of you..."

The fairy nodded, her bell like voice urging Wendy upwards, dancing around the girl before leading her towards the west.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The cannon boomed out again, the whistle and crump of the cannonball making everyone duck as it fell just short of the barricade, sending a plume of dirt showering over the defenders.

"Still can't seem to get their range right, do they lad."

Peter glanced briefly over his shoulder at the former pirate first mate, the old man was as covered in dirt as the rest of the line of defenders arrayed along the rough collection of poles and canvas and earthworks that formed the barrier protecting the Indian village from the attacking pirates.

Peter had to admire Hook's strategy. He had the higher ground, raining shot from musket and cannon on the village below, only the hastily built palisade protecting the braves from the lethal volleys. Smee and the rest of the former crew of the Jolly Roger had appeared in the late morning, at first treated as cohorts of Hook, Smee had to talk fast to convince the Indian's that they had come to help protect the village. Peter's intervention had stopped the confrontation turning ugly, his cautious acceptance of Smee's offer diffusing the tension.

"'e don't 'ave a good enough range finder in 'is crew, that's the problem."

Smee turned to agree with the old pirate crouched behind him.

"You're probably right Colin...he always said you were the best."

The old pirate cackled, raising smiles from those around him. Another boom announced the next cannonball, everyone ducking down as it hit further along the defensive line, dirt rising up from the impact to form a temporary cloud before settling on those crouched behind the barrier.

"Surely they'll run out of ammunition soon." One of the other sailors muttered grimly. Peter agreed, knowing that Hook would launch his offensive before the sun passed much further across the sky.

"Not much longer to wait now...remember, we have to hold them off, keep them occupied until dusk...the other's will be back at the cave entrance to cut off any retreat should we fail. Hook cannot be allowed back into the mountain."

"We understand Peter."

Peter stared at the faces around him, their expressions a mixture of determination and hope, copper hands clutching tomahawks and bows, weather beaten sailors clutching ancient cutlass's and unpredictable blunderbuss, all aware that this might be their last chance.

All over the island the sky reflected the tension of the small army of defenders, the clouds dark and heavy, swirling and rolling and casting a gloomy pall over the hastily cleared ground around the village.

"They've stopped firing." One of the sailor stated, everyone exchanging uneasy glances before fixing their attention on the ragged bush line where the enemy were sure to appear.

"Stand ready to repel borders, men!" Smee called to his shipmates, his rheumy eyes sparkling with anticipation behind his bottle-bottom glasses.

"Stand firm warriors!" Intoned Grey Wolf from further along the line. Peter turned his head and met the man's intense stare. As if responding to a signal they both nodded their heads, turning to face the greenery again, both determined.

When Peter had returned to the village he'd found it in an uproar, Little Creek and Fly surrounded by the elders, her sons standing protectively at her back, wary of any repercussions from their releasing of Peter and dangerous rescue attempt, in direct violation of Grey Wolf's orders.

Peter's arrival only raised the level of noise as the Indians shouted at each other in surprise and fear at his appearance. Standing directly in front of the elders, Little Creek and her family at his back, Peter addressed the village, his fists resting on his hips, his legs apart.

"You do not have time to fight amongst yourselves, there is a greater enemy who will soon arrive at your village, you should be preparing to defend it and your lives."

"We have been told that Hook and his men are one the way. You have brought this horror out of the mountain, you have brought disaster to our village."

"I also brought back all of those that left to join me in the rescue of Wendy and Precious Butterfly. We defeated Hook in his lair, we can defeat him here as well."

The surrounding crowd broke into a hubbub of muttering, some perceptibly edging to the side behind Peter, swelling the ranks around Little Creek's family. Grey Wolf's eyes narrowed as he hastily reviewed his options. Peter had done what none had thought he could, changing the balance of power. Those that had not agreed with Grey Wolf and his order to stop Peter before, were now aligning themselves with the Pan, his tenuous hold over their allegiance slipping from his grasp.

"How do you plan to defeat Hook...if you have winnowed down the numbers, as you say, why should we risk our lives, why not leave it to you to defeat him again?"

"Because Neverland is more than just my home, it is yours as well. I'm prepared to risk everything I love, as well as my life to defend this island. Hook can be defeated, are you prepared to sit back and allow him to take everything from you without a fight?"

The village roared into life, braves waving weapons, women keening and children screaming defiance and denial, only Grey Wolf, his lips pressed together, kept silent. Eventually he raised a hand and the voices died down, leaving an uneasy silence.

"You speak passionately, Peter Pan...you are prepared to risk all...we can do no less."

The air filled with whoops and cries of triumph as Peter held out his hand and, after only a moments hesitation, Grey Wolf clasped that hand in his own, the two men agreeing to a temporary truce, an alliance to defeat a common foe. Immediately Peter started to issue orders, Grey Wolf remaining silent until called upon, Peter leaving the Indian leader to organize the defense of the village while he flew into the air to scout the pirates location.

Now they sheltered behind the ramparts of the hastily built defenses, Grey Wolf as grimly silent as Peter, everyone focused on the tree-line for the first glimpse of the pirate horde.

A flash of lightning made everyone glance skyward, the dark clouds brooding overhead, heavy with portent and rain. A scream drew their attention back to the cleared area in front of the lines, another cry announcing the launch of the pirate offensive.

The next few minutes were a blur of confused action. The air, so heavy with the threat of rain, exploded into a cacophony of musket fire and screams of both defenders and attackers. Hook's pirates, freed from the fear of death, launched themselves against the Indians, the air thick with the sound of swords clashing with hatchets and spears, the blows rent with grunts and screams as blades bit into flesh, both living and dead, the flood of pirates breaching the barrier and slashing their way into the heart of the village.

Peter's blade sang as it defended its owner against another pirate intent on severing Peter's head from his shoulders. Ducking, Peter was able to sweep the man's legs from under him, literally cutting his support away, so that the pirate howled in impotent rage until Peter slash again and the man's head rolled away from his body to stare in mute surprise as Peter darted away to engage another pirate. The fairy blade glowed brightly as another pirate found himself spitted on its length, Peter grabbing his long bladed stiletto and plunging it into the dead man's body, pinning the thrashing pirate to the ground before once more separating the man's head from his body, effectively retiring him from the battle. Through all this Peter constantly searched for Hook, seeking a glimpse of the white hair, or a flash of the curved hook, but he saw neither. The pirates were starting to retreat, their wounded left lying, dismembered, still screaming their defiance, in the dirt as their comrades edged out of the Indian village, the clash of blades still ringing out as they backed away towards the trees. As the Indian's made to follow, a black ball appeared in the air, flying in an arc to land amidst the defenders, Peter shouting for everyone to scatter as the fizzing fuse of the bomb shrank quickly. Throwing himself backwards, Peter landed in the churned up earth as the bomb exploded sending dirt and debris over everyone and giving the retreating pirates the time they needed to escape. His ears still ringing, Peter raised his head from under his arms and stared around, noting that everyone appeared unhurt by the unexpected explosion. As if in relief the sky's opened and warm rain drenched the village, quickly soaking the defenders as they hurried back behind the barricade to assess their losses and treat the injured.

There was only one fatality, one of the old pirates had been cornered and hacked to death before his shipmates could reach him. Smee was organizing his men to wrap the body and leave it for burial later, his gnarled fingers closing the dead man's eyes before covering the corpse completely.

Peter stood surveying the camp, mentally reviewing the fight and wondering where Hook had been during the melee. The sound of his name pulled him from his reverie, the rain blinding him for a second before he swiped it from his face with his hand to see Wendy running towards him, her green dress soaked and clinging to her form as she stumbled over the churned up mud. Peter caught her before she could fall, their bodies melded together in a tight embrace. After a minute, Wendy was running her hands over him, checking for injuries until Peter stopped her roving hands.

"I'm fine...not a scratch."

"I was so worried...I got here a quickly as I could..I thought.." Wendy broke off, biting her bottom lip and swallowing hard.

"You shouldn't be here...why aren't you safe back at the house?"

"I couldn't stay there." Wendy replied indignantly, pulling back but leaving her hands entwined with his. "I belong with you, by your side...don't send me away Peter."

Smiling ruefully Peter tugged her back into his arms. "As if I could. But this battle isn't over yet Wendy...the pirates have just retreated, not gone for good." He felt something hard against his side and looked down, noting the weapons around her waist. "I see you came prepared."

Wendy nodded. "I know its been awhile since you taught me how to fight, but I want to be by your side..together..."

"Forever..." Peter finished for her, smiling at her fierceness. The rain was starting to ease, the clouds still swirling overhead, but not so dark, the flashes of lightning and boom of thunder becoming less frequent as the storm passed.

As if on cue, the whistle of an incoming cannon ball sent everyone scrambling, Peter yanking Wendy after him as they dove for cover amongst the remains of the ramparts. The explosion sent mud and debris showering over Peter and Wendy, the noise deafening them. The cannon ball signaled that the battle was once more on, a wave of pirates launching themselves over the barricade before Peter could do more than heave himself out of the clinging mud and thrust Wendy behind him. His sword blocked the downward slash of a pirates cutlass, Peter's feet slipping on the uncertain footing as the force of the blow vibrated through his body. Wendy had managed to draw her sword in time to defend herself from a pirate that slipped past Peter and ran at her, his sword poised to run her through. With both hands holding the hilt of the rapier Wendy blocked and parried, the pirate getting more frustrated as he tried to find a way past her defenses. As her boots fought to find a grip on the slippery ground, the man lunged, knocking her blade aside. With a cry Wendy fell backwards, her hand numb as her sword spun away leaving her defenseless. As she raised her arm to shield her head the man drew his arm back to strike. The blow never landed, Peters' sword skewering the man as he prepared to slash downwards, the cutlass dropping to the ground with the man's severed arm as Peter hacked the pirates body in two. Wendy had scrabbled backwards, Peter coming to stand over her as another man launched an attack, his fairy blade parting the man's head from his shoulders, the body falling at Peters' feet to land beside Wendy. With an inarticulate cry, Wendy grabbed Peters' hand and scrabbled to her feet, the severed head mouthing obscenities as the couple stepped over the pirates headless body to find some dryer ground.

"I'm sorry Peter...I slipped." Wendy gasped as the fighting swirled around them, Peter still gripping her hand, the other holding the fairy blade which glowed brightly. The pirates seemed to be avoiding Peter now, engaging the Indians and former pirates, but avoiding the Pan where he stood, Wendy close to his side.

"Stay close behind me." Peter ordered, advancing on a fight between one of the elderly former pirates and one of Hook's cohorts, the men unevenly matched. Peter raised his blade and blocked the killing strike intended to fell the older pirate, the attacker turning his attention to Peter while Wendy helped the defender out of the way, the man glad to lean on her while Peter blocked the attackers advance.

"Just...need...to...catch...me...breath..." The old man wheezed as Wendy eased him to the ground. Suddenly the old man gasped, thrusting his battered sword into Wendy's hand. Quickly she raised the blade as she turned, blocking a blow from a pirate that had slipped past Peter. Aware of the defenseless old man at her feet, Wendy held her ground, blocking every slashing blow, her arm aching as she defended herself, the attacking pirate grinning as he toyed with her.

"Now me beauty...enough of play time!"

Seeing her death in his eyes, Wendy let out a despairing cry.

"Peter!"

Peter swung around, Wendy's cry tearing at his heart. The pirate he'd engaged took advantage of his distraction and lunged but found his intended victim not so unaware. With a sudden twist Peter blocked the blow, spinning the man around with the force of his riposte before slicing the pirate legs away to incapacitate him. By the time Peter had freed himself and turned to Wendy he saw only her still form laying on the ground, the old pirate she'd been defending bending over her in a defensive crouch as Hook's henchman prepared to deliver a killing blow.

Leaping forward Peter knocked the attacking pirate to the side, the fairy blade swinging upwards and almost severing the man in two, the body falling to the ground with a sickening thud. Hook's pirates were once more retreating, their numbers greatly reduced, back to the trees and their leaders rage.

Peter ignored all that, the fairy blade dropping from his nerveless fingers as he fell to his knees beside Wendy's body. The old pirate had straightened up from his crouch and sat back on his heels as Peter leant forward to gather Wendy into his arms and away from the cold ground. As he lifted her it became apparent that Wendy's injury was mortal, the mud soaked in her lifeblood, her dress stained scarlet from the deep gash in her side. As Peter lifted her Wendy moaned, her eyes fluttering open, the pupils wide and dilated.

"Peter?"

"I'm here love, I've got you..."

"I'm sorry...I should have blocked instead of parried..."

"Shhhh love...it'll be alright..the pirates are gone now, you're safe."

"I feel so cold...hold me Peter...why am I so cold."

"I'll warm you...don't let go Wendy...I'll keep you warm."

With the last of the pirates run off, the Indian's and Smee, along with his shipmates started to gather around the couple, the sky overhead starting to darken, the clouds lowering. Grey Wolf shouldered his way through the crowd of villagers, halting as he took in the scene, his grim visage softening as he recognized the tragedy unfolding before him.

"Is there anything we can do Pan?" He asked softly, his voice carrying across the space between them.

Peter ignored the Indian leader, his focus entirely on the girl in his arms. Wendy's blood continued to seep between Peter's fingers, her skin growing paler as her life slipped away. With a final effort Wendy raised her hand and traced the outline of his lips, her eyes focussing briefly on his.

"I love you Peter...love...you..."

"Don't leave me Wendy...I love you."

Holding her tightly against his heart, Peter willed his life into hers, his muscles tense with stress as he felt her go completely limp within his arms, her breath leaving her lips on a final sigh that sounded like his name.

Lightning suddenly flashed above them, the sky now so dark it could have been night, a wind starting to pick up, lifting dust and debris from the ground to swirl in eddies around the feet of a figure in velvet that trod delicately, if unevenly, across the muddy ground.

Hook's remaining force surrounded the silent crowd that ringed Peter, the pirate Captain parting the Indians who stood back to let him pass. At their center Peter still knelt on the ground, rocking Wendy's body in his arms, his face buried in her hair, silent sobs shaking his body.

Hook drew his sword and advanced carefully across the sodden ground. With a twisting flip the pirate Captain tossed Peter's fairy sword up from the ground and into the air to be snagged by his Hook and out of Peter's reach. Apart from the swirl of air and rumble of the sky there were no other sounds, the crowd surrounding Hook and Peter aware that one last scene had to be played before the fate of them all was decided.

"Peter Pan..." Hook drawled. "And what remains of Wendy Darling..what a shame...she was a rare one, your Wendy."

"Don't speak her name..." Peter growled, one hand hiding Wendy's face against his chest. "You're insane desire for revenge has killed her..."

"I?" Hook held his hook to his chest, eyebrows raised. "I did not bring her here, I was not the one who tried to upset the balance...it was not my sword that took her life...that was all your doing, Peter Pan."

"You would rob us all of life...even now you plot to steal mine from me, I can see it in your eyes."

"Quite correct of course...for me to succeed I must take yours, once and for all and free us all from this cursed life."

"Then do so...for I weary of your voice." Peter replied, turning away from Hook and laying Wendy back down on the ground, only now noticing the gore coating his hands and arms and soaking his shirt, stained red with her blood.

As if pulled by invisible strings, the crowd around Hook and Peter started to draw back until a wide circle left the two combatants alone at its center. Peter still knelt on the ground, unarmed, his sword hanging from Hook metal hand, the pirate Captain standing over him, an expression of gloating painting the man's disfigured features.

"So be it." Hook growled. Sheathing his own blade, Hook grasped the hilt of the fairy sword with his good hand, hefting it to test the balance and weight. Satisfied, Hook drew his arm back, his lips peeling back from his teeth as he prepared to end Peters' life.

The fairy blade gleamed brightly as Hook swept his arm down with all his force towards Peters' bowed head, the blade singing as it cleaved the air as if rejoicing in ending Peters' life.

The killing blow never landed. With a sudden twist the blade slewed off to the side before it could make contact with Peter's body, Hook pulled off balance as the hilt of the sword closed around his hand and carried the pirate off to the side, Hook catching his foot and falling to his knees in the mud. In disbelief Hook saw the blade lift, still glowing with its unearthly light, the hilt still gripping his unwilling hand, now starting to turn the blade back on itself. Hook tried to free his hand but the glowing hilt wouldn't be released, the blade turning Hook's wrist back on itself until the blade pointed towards Hook's chest, his wrist snapping audibly as the sword twisted the joint.

"Stop it...STOP IT!" Hook screamed, the blade starting to advance towards his body, slowly and inexorably. Hook tried to back away, his feet scrabbling at the mud as his own arm carried the blade closer to his body. The surrounding crowd of watchers, Indian's and pirates alike watched in horrified fascination as the fairy blade impaled Hook on its length, the man's unnaturally bent wrist and arm following the blade through Hook's body to the hilt. Hook screamed, the air rent with his cries which quickly turned to gurgles as blood filled the pirates' lungs. The enchanted blade had continued into the ground below Hook and effectively pinned the pirate there like a butterfly, the man's other arm flailing, the hook digging into the dirt as he tried to free himself. Blood spewed from Hook's mouth as he coughed and screamed, the fairy blade unmovable. As the sky rumbled overhead, the blade suddenly flared more brightly than the sun, blinding the onlookers who shielded their faces, the light fading quickly to reveal that Hook's body had been split asunder as if butchered, his limbs all separated from his body, his head from his neck, his torso split from neck to groin.

"Oh my gawd..." Smee breathed, exchanging looks with his fellows as the remnants of Hook's men fled screaming in fear back into the forest leaving only the villagers and Smee's old pirates to stare in disbelief at the remains of Hook.

Grey Wolf appeared as stunned and shocked as his people, staring in awe at what was left of Hook, his eyes blinking to clear the afterimage of the fairy blades flash of power. Peter seemed to be the only one not affected by Hook's demise, his face turned resolutely away from the gory corpse laying nearby, his eyes only on the body of Wendy laying so still beside him. With infinite care, he bent forward and gathered her into his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder as he rose unsteadily to his feet. With bleak eyes, he stared around at the circle of wary faces as if seeing them for the first time.

Above the village the sky started to weep, a gentle rain seeping down to dew the people standing below. Many of the faces bore a shared grief with the young man bearing his sad burden, the soft rain blurring the tears that streamed down silently. Peter remained silent, his eyes burning as the people parted in front of him. He walked from the scene of carnage, his back straight, his hair plastered to his head, his heart dead in his chest.

In silence the villagers watched him leave, none daring to call his name or stop him. Only when Peter passed from sight with his tragic burden did a low murmur start up, the Indians gathering once more to stare at Hook's remains, to stare one last time at the man that had caused so much grief.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter didn't know how long he stumbled through the forest with his heavy burden, only that when his strength finally gave out, the sky above his head was clear with stars twinkling coldly in the velvet blackness. He had no idea how far he'd come or where he was, only that he felt empty and dead, his body functioning without a heart, that organ ripped out when his love had breathed her last. He sat now, his aching back against a broad tree, Wendy's body cradled on his legs, his arms holding her to his chest as he watched stripes of moonlight slant through the canopy of branches far above his head.

As exhaustion blurred his vision and drew him down into the darkness, he thought he saw the stars come down from the sky and dance among the trees before his eyes closed and he gave into black oblivion.

The stars that he'd seen were fairies, threading their way through the forest in search of him. They had been advised of the outcome of the battle for Neverland and had been sent by their Queen to find Peter and Wendy and bring them to her. When the first fairy found Peter, she sent a shrill call to her fellows, all of them clustering around their fallen hero and his Wendy Lady. When enough had arrived they showered the couple with fairy dust before each attached themselves to a part of the comatose bodies and lifted them into the night air, conveying their insensate burdens back into the darkest part of the forest.

In a grove of trees that formed a perfect circle, they placed Peter and Wendy on a stone platform at its heart, the surface covered in vines that cushioned the hard rock. From all sides the fairy host converged on the stone alter, their golden light painting the still figures, gilding them like carved idols slumbering for eternity. A brighter light approached and the host parted for their Queen. She stared down at Peter, noting the deep lines of grief that puckered his brow even in sleep, his lips pressed together in a tight line as if to hold in the tearing sobs that threatened to erupt if he relaxed his control. She then approached the body of Wendy, the girls face relaxed in death, her eyes not completely shut, as if she were awakening, her skin so pale as to appear luminescent. As the Queen passed over Wendy's body a prick of golden light appeared through the girls dress, pulsing more brightly as the Queen paused over Wendy's abdomen. The Queen smiled to herself, her task made more joyous with this new development.

Gathering her people around her, the Queen held herself immobile, hovering over Peter's and Wendy's heads, her light bathing their faces, lending animation where there was none. Her people gathered closely about her, their wings hardly moving as they drew on the fairy life force and directed it into the two so still below them.

Slowly at first, but gathering speed, the bright cloud of fairies started to circle the stone alter, the Queen at their center as they swirled around faster and faster. At the peak of their dance a shimmering light bathed the bodies laying on the vines, sweeping from the tops of their heads down to their toes, removing all evidence of blood and dirt, cleaning them of pain and fear, clothing them in gilt and gossamer until all was once more reborn and renewed.

As the light faded from the glade, the moon rose overhead, bathing the alter in her own cold light, rimming the bodies in silver where before they had been bathed in gold. At a signal from the Queen, the fairy host, their light greatly subdued, gathered around and lifted the sleeping forms of Peter and Wendy from the stone alter and flew with them once more into the sheltering forest.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter felt deliciously comfortable, his body relaxed and warm, utterly content and calm. He had slowly regained his senses one at a time, his ears registering the sound of birds welcoming a new day, the rustle of small animals looking for breakfast among the leaf litter of the forest, the regular breathing of Wendy beside him. His nose also confirmed the dream, the rose scent of her favourite perfume tickling his memory of a bath taken long ago where he steeped himself in her scent. His body also told him that she slept against his side, her warmth bathing his skin, making him want to snuggled deeper into her body. Finally his eyes blinked open and he saw that the dream was real, her sweet face turned towards him where he lay on the pillows, her cloud of hair tickling his cheek when he turned his head.

"Don't let me awake from this dream..." He whispered, slowly reaching up a heavy hand to touch her soft cheek, almost jerking when it provoked a reaction from the sleeper, her face turning into his hand,a sigh leaving her parted lips.

Still sure that he was dreaming, Peter slowly raised himself on his elbow and gazed down at her, so real and alive beside him. Unable to bear the torment, he bent and pressed his lips to hers, his heart thumping as he kissed her, her lips warm and alive under his, not cold and dead as he expected. A hand stole up and buried itself in his hair, tugging him closer and deepening the kiss until he felt drunk with the wonder of it, wanting it never to end.

"Peter..." His name left her lips on a husky whisper and Peter drew back, his bemused gaze meeting hers as she blinked up at him, her fingers drawing patterns on his scalp that sent blood pumping through his body with a growing excitement.

"You're so beautiful...sweet torment don't let me wake up."

Dipping his head he claimed her mouth again, his passion set free by her eager response, her body opening to him like a flower to the sun. He nipped and suckled her mouth, her cries swallowed by his lips as he covered her body with his, claiming her for his own, branding her with his fingers and lips, his body enveloping her, melding her to him until he couldn't tell where he finished and she began. As she arched under him, he cried out her name and spent himself inside her, shuddering and shaking, his hands cradling her face as he pressed kisses over her eyelids and cheek.

Bathed in languor, he rolled and cradled her across his chest still intimately joined with her. As he lay, his heart thundering in his chest, he stared sightlessly upwards, wishing with all his heart that the dream not end just yet.

A faint tinkling sound drew his attention and he focused on a sprite that appeared beside the bed, the fairy coming to rest on the pillow beside his head.

"This is no dream, Peter Pan...you are alive, she is alive, and the life she carries is alive."

"But..."

"We found you in the forest and took you to the alter...the Queen renewed you both."

"Then...all this...is real?"

"Very real...and you are to become what you never thought you wanted to be..."

"I am grown up?"

"You are to become a Father, Peter... a real Father this time."

"A real Father...and Wendy?"

"She is as she was...she will have no memory of what happened, to her she never died, it is as if she has had a long sleep."

"Thank you..." Peter breathed, a shuddering breath leaving his chest along with the horror of what had happened. "Thank you..."

"Hook is no more...his pirates are gone...those that are left pose no threat to you or to Neverland. They are immured inside the mountain and will never trouble you again. Neverland is once more free and yours, Peter Pan."

Not waiting for a reply, the sprite lifted into the air and waved before fluttering out of the bedroom window and into the morning sun. Peter felt his lips curving up into a smile as he digested all the fairy had told him, one item leaping out and setting his heart jumping once more. He was going to be a real Father.

Feeling suddenly that he'd slept a lifetime, Peter's eased himself out from under Wendy's welcome weight and gently rolled her onto her back. Easing the cover's back he bared her mid-drift, her softly rounded belly drawing his hand like a magnet. He watched her full breasts rise and fall before lowering his head and resting it lightly on her abdomen, his hand splayed under his cheek, alert to the slightest movement from within. He stayed this way for several minutes until fingers threaded their way through his hair and tugged at his scalp.

"Peter...what are you doing?"

Grinning against her belly, Peter didn't move. "I'm listening."

Wendy could feel the pull of his lips against her skin and wondered what he was grinning about.

"What are you listening for?"

"Our son."

Wendy suddenly came very much awake, her fingers clenching in his hair until he winced.

"Ouch...Wendy let go...please?"

"What? Oh sorry...Peter...did you say...our son?"

"I'm going to be a Father, Wendy...a real Father...not pretend, but for real."

"Peter...I...how do you know?"

"The fairies told me...isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes...very wonderful Peter..." She threaded her fingers once more in his curls as he shifted against her belly, his lips pressing warm kisses over her skin.

Wendy submitted to his attention, her flesh warming under his caresses. She writhed as his lips worked they way back up her torso, staking his claim from the tips of her breast to the sweet spot behind her ear until he ended up back at her lips, plundering her mouth thoroughly before breaking contact to grin at her.

"Good morning Mother..."

"Oh Peter..." She stopped when he cocked an impudent eyebrow at her. "Oh alright...Good morning Father."

The absurdity struck them both and they started to giggle, the laughter peeling out and filling the small, sunlit room until they lay gasping, fingers entwined, suffused with happiness.

Wendy rolled onto her side and gazed at her handsome husband, father of her child, her champion of Neverland.

Lifting her hand, and his with it, she placed a kiss on their joined fingers, her expression serious.

"Peter...with my love, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, 'til death do us part, I pledge thee my troth."

"Wendy...forever, and for always...never to be parted, even unto death...I pledge you my love."

For a moment Wendy's eyes filled with tears. "I lost your ring..."

"No, you didn't...it's been here since we came back from the canyon that time and got changed."

Delving under the pillow, Peter pulled out his hand and revealed the pearl ring held safely in his palm. Taking the ring he seated it snugly back on her left hand, kissing the tips of her fingers when done.

"Oh Peter...I thought...oh I'm so happy!"

"Ah my own, my Wendy..."

Unheeding of the world outside their room, they renewed their vows to love, honor and cherish until the sky was streaked with pink and gold and the stars started to chase the sun to its bed.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Epilog:

Wendy sighed as she sat outside the small house, her hand resting on her gently rounded stomach, the sun chasing the chill of the morning away as she stretched, well content. She had just bidden Peter off on his daily check of his island kingdom, her lips still swollen from his ardent farewell, her mouth curved in a smile of remembrance. She was just contemplating what she would do for the rest of the morning when she felt a presence at her side.

"Good Morning George...how are things in the mountain."

"Hah...you didn't know I was there until I got this close!" Crowed the former first lieutenant of Her Majesty's Ship Circe, George Treading.

"I knew you were there quite some time ago George...I just couldn't be bothered to say anything."

"Ah well...I'll just have to keep practicing." Assuming a more corporeal form, George seated himself next to Wendy, tilting his head as if he could actually feel the warmth of the sun on his face.

"So George...how are things?"

"Very quiet...I'm still surprised the fairies allow me to visit you like this. With the other's penned up in the mountain, I was sure I'd never see you again."

"Peter approached the Queen after I told him all that you'd done for me."

"It wasn't much." George mumbled, shifting on the bench.

"I wish there was more I could do for you..."

"Not unless its someway of turning me from a ghost into the living, and that's not very likely is it."

"I'm sorry George."

"Ah, don't worry about it...it's not so bad. I've learnt there's a lot more I can do since I followed Hook out of the mountain. It's almost as good as being alive."

"Oh George." Wendy reached for his hand, only wincing slightly as the bone chilling cold crept up her arm before she let go again.

They sat for a few moment in companionable silence before George made a fuss of getting to his feet.

"I'd better go, Little Creek will be here soon and you know how she hates to see an ancestor in the flesh, so to speak."

"Goodbye George...don't go getting lost in any rocks now."

"Ha. Ha. I get lost once and I never hear the end of it." George muttered as he faded out of her sight, his voice fading with him.

Wendy went back to her sun soaking, her fingers once more painting circles on her belly, making wrinkles in the silk of her dress.

"You should have your feet up."

Wendy jerked forward at the sound of Little Creek's voice right next to her.

"Goodness Little Creek...I never heard you coming."

"Lost none of my hunting skills then. Used to be famous for my stealthy approach. Often used to scare the pants off my boys when they thought they were unobserved in their mischief." Little Creek laughed, Wendy joining her as she pictured the Indian woman's strapping sons jumping from fright when their Mother snuck up on them.

"Still...you should have your feet up...are you eating properly?"

"Of course...that stew you made for last night was wonderful."

"Can't beat a fine rabbit stew. You need fattening up, still too skinny." Little Creek made to pinch Wendy's arm but she moved in time, laughing as she leant away.

"Oh no, I still have the bruises from yesterday."

"Then you should tell that man of yours not to be so rough!" Little Creek retorted, making Wendy blush.

Shaking her head, Little Creek bustled about, ducking into the house and coming out with a small wooden foot stool which she placed under Wendy's feet despite her faint protests.

"You'll thank me when you can't see your feet, and your ankles are the size of a melons."

"Now there's a comforting thought." Wendy shot back, giving into the Indian woman's fussing. Despite a good nights sleep, Wendy still felt tired and let her head fall back after Little Creek placed a cushion there, dozing in the morning sun as the industrious woman set about cleaning and sweeping, humming a tune under her breath as she worked. Wendy had tried in vain to stop Little Creek, but as soon as it was known that Wendy was expecting Peter's child, it was accepted that she needed someone to look after her, in loco parentis, and Little Creek was the unopposed choice. Unable to fight the determined grandmother, Wendy gave in gracefully and submitted to Little Creeks care.

She sat dozing, reflecting on her life with Peter. With the new life growing inside her, Wendy felt a contentment suffuse her, her heart full of love for the child created with him. She often thought of her Mother and Father, her brothers, her Aunt, her former life in London. Truthfully she could not wish herself back there, her heart firmly tied to Peter and his island paradise. As she sat, soaking up the sun, her fingers brushing across her stomach she felt something flutter inside her. Thinking nothing of it, she only briefly paused in her stroking, the fluttering coming again, this time directly under her fingertips.  
This time she opened her eyes and stared down at herself, her hand resting flat against her rounded abdomen against the thin silk of her gown, her breath hitching as she waited. Again she felt the life inside her stir and she let out a cry which brought Little Creek running out of the house.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"I felt her...him...the baby...it moved!"

Little Creek's frown of concern quickly changed to one of satisfaction, her face split with a wide grin. "Now you will listen to me when I tell you to put your feet up and rest, the baby agrees with me!"

The women laughed together, the Indian woman still chuckling as she went back into the house.

Wendy sat back, her hands folded protectively over her stomach, her lips curved into a sweet smile. Minutes later those same lips were covered by firm, warm ones that plundered their sweetness for several seconds before pulling away.

"You looked like you were dreaming." Said Peter, sitting back on his heels, his hand covering hers were it rested on her middle.

"Have I been asleep so long?"

"No...I came back early. All is peace in Neverland so I hurried back to spend the rest of the day with you."

Wendy smiled lovingly at him, then a hint of mischief entered her blue eyes. "Give me your hand."

Amused, Peter did just that, Wendy laying it over her rounded stomach, his much large hand almost covering the whole area.

"What am I waiting for...wha!" Peter's question dissolved into a cry of surprise as he felt the flutter of movement under his hand. Startled he looked up to find Wendy's eyes dancing with laughter.

"You're child is anxious to fly, a true Pan."

Peter found himself speechless, his hand staying on her stomach until he felt the movement twice more, his face registering awe and wonder at the evidence of new life growing inside his love.

Surging to his feet, Peter scooped Wendy into his arms and leapt into the air, Wendy squealing and clutching at his neck as they rose steadily into the sky, spiraling up to the fluffy clouds.

Below them Neverland spread herself in opulent splendor, the sea the colour of sapphires, the jungle the verdant green of emeralds. As Peter surveyed his world he thought that there was no jewel brighter or more precious than the one he held in his arms.

"He'll have your eyes and my strength."

"She'll have your charm and my hair." It was a familiar game they played since the morning after the great battle.

"Whatever our child ends up with, it'll have our love."

"Forever and always, Peter..."

Winding her arms around his neck, Wendy tilted her face up for him to kiss, the faint sound of Little Creek shouting for Peter to bring her back down intruding on their bliss. Sighing gustily, Peter grinned ruefully at Wendy before turning back to fly them home.

"I don't suppose I could ban her back to the Indian village." He suggested jokingly as they slowly floated downwards, Little Creek clearly visible, her hands on her hips as she waited for them.

Wendy giggled. "Not unless you wanted an outright war on your hands."

"I didn't think so...of course, I could kidnap you and take you to the other side of the island, where even Little Creek couldn't find us."

"Maybe tomorrow...right now Father, I do believe your child and I need feeding." As if to punctuate her statement her stomach growled loudly making them burst out laughing just as they touched down in the clearing outside their home.

Little Creek had disappeared inside the house when it became apparent that they were returning. Now she appeared carrying a heaped tray of food, smiling smugly at Wendy's surprised expression at the Indian woman anticipating her need. Instead of putting her down, Peter kept Wendy in his arms and sat down, placing her on his lap, his arm firmly around her waist to keep her there.

As they ate their lunch, Peter fed small morsels to Wendy, and she to him, making the meal into a game until they almost choked from laughing at their own silliness, behaving like children once more.

When they had quieted, Wendy lay her head on Peter's shoulder.

"I've thought of a name."

"Have you?"

Wendy nodded, snuggling further into his body, full and relaxed after her meal.

"I was thinking of George, for a boy or Georgina for a girl."

"For your Father?"

"And for George Treading...he really did all he could, considering his limitations."

"Hmmmmm."

"What do you think?"

"I think...that now that Little Creek has left, we have the house to ourselves and I want to see if he, she or it are still doing somersaults down there."

"Little Creek left?"

"I might not have to ban her after all...time we followed her advise and got those feet of yours up."

Not waiting for a reply, Peter once more scooped Wendy into his arms and carried her into the house.

"At this rate, Peter Pan, I'm going to lose all use of my legs!"

"Then I'll just have to keep you in bed all the time!" Peter replied wickedly before tossing her lightly onto the bed and following her down.

Divested of clothes, Peter lay with his head on her belly, stroking lazy circles across her warm flesh, his curls tickling the underside of her breasts when she breathed in and out. After feeling the flutter that reconfirmed the life growing within her, Peter scooted up the bed and took her in his arms.

"Are you happy Wendy?"

Wendy looked at him for a long moment, drinking in his sea-green eyes and golden features, marveling that such a magical man could love her so deeply.

"I am as happy as a woman can be living in paradise with the love of her life and carrying the child of that love...I am very happy Peter."

"Good...because I can't imagine my life now without you in it...does this mean the adventure is over, that I've grown up Wendy?"

"Oh I think there's a lot more adventures for you to enjoy yet, Peter. Adventures you've never dreamed of..being grown up can be quite the biggest adventure anyone can ever have."

"Ah Wendy...the cleverness of you."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The End.

(hope you enjoyed the ride-cheers all,and thanks for your company)


End file.
